December photos

Here are a number of photos from December, including pictures from my trip to Thailand and from Christmas festivities in Ha Noi. Click here to go to the Picasa page where I've written captions and you can see one movie. Enjoy!

snapshots of Ha Noi

It's been a while since I've written here and a lot has happened. What follows are a few quotes from my journal, like little snapshots into my life here. I realize there's a danger in posting these that you'll think my life is full of these kinds of stories, all the time. It's not. My daily life mostly involves going to work and back, but within that mundane-ness sometimes strange things happen...

"Today when I was looking to buy baking powder to make pancakes, the woman told me that what I needed was 'poudre pour panification.' Panifi-what? She said it makes bread rise, and I guess my pancakes DID go up like they’re supposed to, so panification powder it is. Nice."

"My host mother showed me the opera program, and basically told me, though a lot of pointing, going through my clothes (see these jeans? No go), and repeating Vietnamese, to look hott. The concert was one of the biggest of the year and I thoroughly enjoyed it with my host cousin."

"This morning I went to the Massage Center to pick up our flyers. There were two big bundles of flyers. It’s really exciting to see my work in actual paper form. My hours on a computer does not just result in a letter grade at the top of a paper, but something concrete to give to people so that these kids have clients and a job. If this is what the real world is, I kinda like it."

"A highlight of today was going out with a coworker and a video camera to capture construction, traffic, and the old/new dichotomy of Hanoi for a movie we’re making. Looking for a traffic jam, now that’s a new one! Hai drove while I worked the camera. We found some 'good' construction (that I usually curse on my bicycle) and drove in through a little door to get a better image. Action for the City spies! I learned that it’s really, really hard to get footage on the back of a bike that doesn’t make you queasy when you watch it."

"Today I filled in as receptionist at Just Massage, which was funny when it came time to answer the phone. 'Tôi không nói tiếng Việt. Anh chờ một phút.' ('I don’t speak Vietnamese. Wait a minute.') Then I would run to get someone to help me. Later on, they asked me if I wanted a massage—business was slow and I wasn’t being that helpful anyway. Sure! It was like a private Vietnamese/English language session for both me and the therapist. Now that’s the way to study language!"

"Yesterday, I joined MCC in going to an HIV/AIDS music and dance competition in a commune outside of Hanoi. It was really interesting to compare it with the competitions at Meeting Point in Kampala. Here, AIDS isn’t such a big deal (yet) and it seemed that the kids didn’t have the same kind of personal, real experience with AIDS as those in Uganda—is was more of a school subject. But they had some creative skits, art, and songs. One group did a rap and their costumes were the traditional long shirts but over tight jeans with stiletto boots. Old meets new! Afterwards we went out to lunch with the organizers. They had these little shot glasses and poured water from a water bottle into them, then toasted. 'Oh ha!,' I thought—'water. No problem to knock back this one.' Except… I quickly discovered that it was not water. No way. That stuff had some serious power. They call it rice wine."

Other highlights in this past month were going to Thailand to visit my dear Wheaton friends Sarah and Sophia, Christmas parties with MCC and church friends, playing my flute and singing in candlelight at the Christmas Eve service with the two international churches, finishing most of my grad school applications, and biking 60K through the Vietnamese countryside for a fundraiser. It's been a good month. Pictures coming soon.

November pictures

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Click here for detailed captions.

wedding, Vietnamese style

My host uncle got married the other week. Come and experience a Vietnamese wedding through this foreigner's eyes:

8:45am--I button up my áo dài (traditional Vietnamese dress) and hop on the back of my host sister's motorbike to scoot off to her grandparents' house and wait the arrival of the bride. As we wait, one of the aunts takes me into a room with a TV and starts talking with me...or to me rather. I try to explain that I'm just learning Vietnamese and if she speaks slowly I might understand, but it seems "speak slowly" doesn't mean much. So I mostly listen and grasp words here and there. The worst is when I recognize question words--uh oh, requires a response from me! I try nodding my head. She asks the question again (hm, must not be a yes/no question). I try repeating the last few words, as in affirming that she just asked a question. That doesn't work either. So then I try responding to what I guess the question is, but she looks really surprised. "Thé ạ!" (Oh really?) No, no, no--my answer is not supposed to be surprising, whatever I just said! So then I resort to "không hiẻu" (I don't understand), but that also feels awkward because it seems like she's telling me some really cool things and I want to understand. Note to self: Learn to say, "please speak to me like you would a 3-year old. I won't be offended, I promise. It'll actually make me feel less stupid."

10:00am--The bride and party finally arrive. They go into the room that holds the ancestor altar, light some incense, inform the ancestors what is going on and let them meet the bride, then exchange rings together in front of the two oldest women of the family. And that is that. The whole thing, maybe five minutes.

10:10am--A few speeches are given by both sides in the dining room while (of course) sipping green tea. Then we head off to a restaurant.

10:30am--Party time! When we get to the reception, there are many people and I see a bride--but wait, that's the wrong one. Then I see another--but she's not the one either. There must be 5-6 wedding receptions going on here. We are directed to the 2nd floor where tables are laid out. There are a few speeches, the food is served (mostly meat), and then lots of picture-taking. We are there no more than two hours.

12:00pm--I return home, change into comfy clothes, and take a nice, long Sunday afternoon nap.

And that is a wedding, Vietnamese style. I was surprised how short the whole thing was. Someone asked me if I felt awkward--yes, of course! I didn't know many of the people, couldn't understand what was being said, and was the only foreigner in the whole place. But I've gotten rather used to this kind of ignorant awkwardness, so it was ok (and it was interesting to see their customs). But what I'd give sometimes for a good hardy Hall gathering... Or for some dancing to loosen people up. I guess the plethora of beer and cigarettes did that sufficiently for most...

on giving thanks

Last Thanksgiving I was in Kampala, Uganda, trying to hang on to the last days of my HNGR internship before Mother Africa whispered it was time to go home. If I knew then that before a year passed I would be in Viet Nam, I think I might have hid myself away somewhere deep in the African bush. But here I am in another capital city and on this Thanksgiving find myself grateful for many things:

1) Host Family. While our communication is limited to my stuttering Vietnamese, I always look forward to going home after a long day of work. My host mom has realized that I love orange juice, so when I got back late last night, there was a full cup of freshly-squeezed juice waiting for me. Host mom, I love you. Em Ngoc (younger sister, 15) is especially patient in helping me with language. Em Thuy (older sister, 19) is fluent in English and fun to talk with, but she's currently away at a training course.

2) Co-workers. Both at MCC and Action for the City, my co-workers have become good friends whom I can talk to about language, family, development work, and various cultural issues. The MCC reps, Lowell & Ruth, are open, hopitable, and encouraging. Brent, Rachel (fellow SALTers), and I have had many fun experiences together. :-)

3) Bamboo flute. I've been taking lessons every week on this traditional Vietnamese instrument and thoroughly enjoy both the lessons and the practicing. I have taken to practicing in what is the closest I could find to a conserv practice cubicle--the (toilet-less) bathroom next to my room. The acoustics are great and I can shut the door and just bury myself in the music. This may surprise some of you, but practicing here is a kind of therapy for me--it's the one time that I don't have to think about language, don't worry about offending people with some cultural faux pas, and actually have that rare, rare thing called Privacy. And I think the people who hear me enjoy that this foreigner is playing their traditional music.

4) Traffic. Biking to work and back home in crowded Hanoi traffic is one of the highlights of my day. I just love it when a motorbike cuts me off and gives me the opportunity to quicken my reflexes, or when a bus behind me blasts the horn for 10 seconds straight and lets me practice solfege using its pitch as the tonic, or when the motorbike in front of me puffs its exhaust straight into my face, or when my tire goes flat for the fourth time that day. But oh wait, this was supposed to be a post on giving thanks, not on sarcasm (well, the solfege part wasn't sarcasm, I really do that). So moving on...

5) Street life. Hanoi is one of those cities that is lived outside on the sidewalks and spills into the streets. While this makes bicycling through narrow alleys a maze between fruit stands, roasting beef, racks of scarves, and pigs feet taunting passerbys, it gives a certain dynamism that keeps life exciting. There's always something new to see! Just yesterday, I saw a motorbike carrying a cage with five large pigs stacked together. Not a bike I want to have an accident with...

6) You. Getting an email from a friend at home, hearing my cell phone ring in the middle of the night from those in far-flung time zones, or seeing a real letter in my box from my family totally makes my day. Thanks for keeping me connected.

I hope you also are finding much to give thanks for this day. Happy Thanksgiving!

pictures from October

Click here to see captions.

on indigenous spirituality

I had the opportunity to travel to Medan, Indonesia last month for a conference on Indigenous Spirituality. Over 20 participants from around Asia gathered together to discuss spirituality, the environment, and conflict/peace issues from the perspective of indigenous communities. While there is much that I could write about my time there, let me share with you one story of the Chepang people of Nepal.

While there are about 60 indigenous people groups in Nepal, the Chepang are one of the most deprived and discriminated against. Traditionally, they lived nomadic lives deep in the jungle in central Nepal, sustained by the fruit of the land. As they say, "The jungle is our supermarket." They believe in supernatural powers that inhabit the forest and rivers, and worship at the base of old sacred trees as a symbol of God's power. They don't cut these old trees because that is their worship place. They live harmoniously with the earth--she sustains them and they respect her.

The Chepang believe that land is not an entity to be bought or sold, and because of this belief the government can easily give ownership of the land to outside groups without legal battles. In fact, 85% of Chepangs don't even have citizenship, so they have no way to defend themselves. The outsiders come in and cut the forest down for exporting profits. The natural rights of the Chepang are gradually stripped away as deforestation increases, as the rivers becomes too polluted to fish, and as construction constricts their nomadic lifestyle. The government has declared slash-and-burn agriculture illegal and the Chepang are blamed for destroying the forest, while this is how they have survived for years and it is the outside companies that are actually destroying the land. Essentially they have become displaced in their own homeland in the name of development.

This is the kind of story that we in the West rarely hear about. When you buy something that says, "Made in Nepal" or "Made in Vietnam," the stories behind that item are shut up. The tears of the people run dry and their weeping is silent. I wonder when the drive of consumerism will listen and feel? I wonder when development will be more than economics? There is certainly a deep richness in the lives and cultures of indigenous peoples.

"America America" Indian movie

Here's a video I got in Indonesia, made in India. I'm not (necessarily) posting it here to make some political commentary, but rather to show how some (many?) people view America.

Tok Spanluvietish

So I've decided to invent a new language. It's called Tok Spanluvietish and includes a select mishmash of Tok Pisin, Spanish, Luganda, Vietnamese, and English. It goes something like this:

"Hola amigos, ogamba ki?"
"Chúng tôi khỏe. And you?"
"Mi amamas tru. Dispela tok está rât dẹp."

Tok Spanluvietish will come in very useful whenever I'm speaking to a group consisting of Papua New Guineans, Latinos, Ugandans, Vietnamese, and Americans. Too bad that will likely, um... never happen. hm. Instead it mostly confuses. The other day I was eating lunch (phỏ gà, mmm!) at a little restaurant near Hanoi University when I saw a girl pull out a Spanish dictionary. A Vietnamese learning Spanish! Super! We talked in a mix of Spanish, English, and Vietnamese, but then a Luganda word would pop out of my mouth and it was only her confused look that made me realize I was speaking another language. Thus the need to invent and promote Tok Spanluvietish. It may very well solve the world's problems by bringing people from multiple continents together. I think I'm on to something. '-)

(ps--more to come soon on my recent trip to Indonesia as well as pictures from October)

September pictures

Drum roll please... announcing pictures from September! Click here to go to the Picasa web album, where you can read the accompanying captions and stories.

a lunchtime adventure

I usually eat lunch with co-workers from Action for the City. We go out to a local restaurant and have a full meal with rice, meat, vegetables and peanuts that costs about 75 cents. Today, however, everyone else was away in meetings so I was on my own. I set off with 30,000/ dong, about $2 to find some food. I tried going to the place that's close to the office, but they were nearly out of food. Then I tried a more Western-looking place, but the food cost more than I had in my pocket (it was maybe $5 for lunch--what a rip-off!). But then I remembered a "bun" (noodles with springrolls or meat--they serve a watery soup that you put the noodles and some greens in, then use chopsticks to slurp it up) restaurant that I went to last week. Well, I remembered that the place exists, but I didn't remember exactly where it was. As I was wondering around, I walked by some cyclo-drivers who are used to working with tourists. Ah, perfect, I thought--they'll know where the bun place is! This is what I understood of the conversation:

Me: "I eat not yet. Bun cha is where?"
Group of men: "It is far. We can take you (pointing to cyclo)."
Me: "I don't have money. Bun nem is where? (pointing to nearby shops)
Men: "You have how many years? Your name is what?"
Me: "22 years, I am Anna. Bun is where?"
Men: (discussing among themselves) "There is a place there." "No, they don't have bun." "Yes, they have it." (then to me, pointing down a small ally) "Go there."

So off I went, not really sure where I was going. I saw a small low table set up on the side of the road with people eating around it and a woman serving white wavy noodles... bun! Yes! The sign behind her said "bun a;sdlkj." Yes! The lid to the soup came off and the woman pointed to its contents, then pinched her skin. hm, ok.. She had already served me a full bowl when I realized that the "a;sdlkj" was chunks of bones and skin. I'm not really sure what animal it came from, but I'm guessing a chicken. It's not the right time of month for dog. It tasted like the goat intestine I ate in Uganda. mmm When I finished, I asked how much it was. 20,000/, she said. When I handed her my two 10,000/ bills, she looked surprised and showed me that my 10,000 was actually 100,000. Whoops! Too many 0's on these bills. I gave her the right amount and hurried back up the street, laughing at this little lunchtime outing. It is precisely this kind of adventure that makes living life overseas exciting and gives it the unpredictability that I love. I've become an expert at laughing at myself--I certainly have plenty of practice!

oh the streets they are changing

Many people here have commented on the rapid changes in Hanoi. Since I've only been here five weeks and have no "old Hanoi" to compare with the "new Hanoi," I must rely on what I hear to form my perspectives. So open your ears with me...

--Many people have commented on the traffic this year, that it is the worse they have ever seen. There are more cars on the streets (expensive ones at that), making traffic jams almost impassible. There are fewer and fewer bicycles (I am among the quiet pedalers). Drivers are more aggressive. When I ask people what they think of their city, they often complain about the traffic. And, let me say, i tru, es la verdad. Traffic accidents are a leading cause of death among the youth, which I can easily believe after seeing three accidents in one night! The government just passed a law that requires all motorists to wear a helmet in an attempt to decrease injuries and fatalities. We'll see if people actually wear them...

--Another change is the presence of imported goods. Today is the mid-Autumn festival, when children traditionally would make lanterns and other crafts and parade them proudly in the streets. Now, China has dominated the market with cheap plastic toys mimicking the traditional ones, so kids parade with battery-operated plastic lanterns instead. People who remember the "good ol' days" complain that, while they don't like this change, there's really not much they can do about it. People buy what's cheap and flashy, and those are goods from China. There's also a plethora of imported fruits from China, and people say that they have so many chemicals that a peach will stay ripe on your counter for weeks. Many avoid these "fresh" foods from China if they can afford to.

--Another major change is pollution, especially in the rivers. As people gain more wealth, there are more disposable goods that end up in the many lakes and rivers around Hanoi. Either people don't realize that this is a problem or they don't care. One of the projects that Action for the City is involved in is "PhotoVoice." From the Photovoice website (our inspiration): "At PhotoVoice we encourage the use of documentary photography by enabling those that have traditionally been the subject of such work to become its creator - to have control over how they are perceived by the rest of the world, while simultaneously learning a new skill which can enhance their lives." Basically we will train some youth to express themselves through photography, give them cameras, and have them take pictures of the rivers and surrounding communities. After a few months, we will gather the photos, edit them, and display them publicly to show the community what the problems are and what can be done about them.

Of course, along with these more negative changes, there are many new changes in Hanoi that people accept excitedly. Change is in the air, and even after five weeks here, I feel it...

(ps--As noted on the side of this blog, these posts tend to be more objective. If you'd like more personal updates, send me a note and I'll add you to my email list. :-) )

a trip to the market

I went to the local market this morning with my host mother and sister. It is outdoors, covered with tarps that hit my head because I'm a head taller than most people here, and about a five minute walk from my house. My host mom goes there every morning to buy the day's food. Here's some of what I saw:

--Live fish in shallow tanks of water. These fish are very alive--I saw one escapee flopping around on the path, perhaps mistaking itself for the Ariel the little mermaid
--Piles and baskets of fruit: green oranges (they're still called oranges, though it would be natural to call them "greens"), huge grapefruit (sometimes the size of my head), papaya, watermelon (dark green and oblong), apples, many different kinds of bananas, dragon fruit (pink with green spikes on the outside, white with black seeds on the inside--pictures to come!), and other fruits that I can't describe...
--Long stalks of sugar cane, waiting to be either peeled, cut up, and chewed, or put through a press to make sweet juice
--Women hacking at beef or pork meat, still on the bone, weighing exact amounts for customers. Pig's feet on the same counter.
--Baskets full of rice
--Piles of squid, tubs of swimming shrimp, other creatures which I could not identify and for which I cannot remember the Vietnamese word!
--Women wrapping up food in banana leaves. I never know what I'll find when I open a wrapped-up green package. Always a surprise...
--A basket full of little birds, ready for some dish (sorry Hope)
--Little shops with cloth and women working hard on their sewing machines inside
--Shops to buy oil and imported goods

And there is oh so much more. As much as I hate going to places like that with my camera, I'll give it a try sometime... But hopefully this has given you some idea of the wonders of a Vietnamese market.

When we came back, I made applesauce from some macs that we bought at the market. mm... the smell of cooking apples brings me right back to the applesauce production at home every fall!

on language

Rachel, Brent, and I have begun language lessons! On MWF mornings we head to Hanoi University for our "Pre-Elementary" class (this course is 100 hours total). We worked on pronunciation for the entire time the first day. Vietnamese is tricky! There are 12 vowels and some of those sounds have only previously been emitted from my mouth via grunts and "uh"s. Then there are six different tones--straight and high-pitched, falling, rising, down and up slowly, down and quickly up (like a check-mark), and low and short. If you say a word with the wrong tone, it means something completely different. For example, "ta" can mean we/us, flap, describe, be worn out, dozen, and 100 kg all depending on the tone. Most Vietnamese words are only one or two syllables, so getting the vowels and tones correct makes the difference between being understood and being a fool. I'm afraid most of my attempts make me the latter so far, but I'll get it with time. My language class often feels like a flute lesson, talking about tongue placement, mouth shape, etc. I remember some flute lessons in high school where we spent nearly an hour working on where to place the tongue for different notes and different attacks. Well, same thing here, except the result means a difference between thoi (stop) and toi (I/me). Language is a giant ear-training class. Except this is (mostly) fun. '-)

pictures

I finally have pictures up! For detailed captions, click a picture below to be directed to the Picasa web album.

a brief history

Viet Nam has been etched in the American national conscious as a War. Think "Viet Nam" and "war" immediately comes to mind. Go to a bookstore, look up Vietnam, and you're bound to find a litany of books on the Vietnam War, the American response to the Vietnam War, the mistakes of the war, the changes the war made, etc etc. A frequent response when I told people about going to Viet Nam was a story from their fighting days in Viet Nam or what they were doing during the early '70s. And this makes sense. I don't want to diminish the impact that the war had because it was the living daily reality for so many.

But Viet Nam is much more than a failed attempt to contain communism. Viet Nam is a country with a long history and diverse people. Even though this place is seldom in the news back home, it has changed and developed, grown and prospered. So I want to give you a brief overview of where Viet Nam has been since it left the headlines of the '60s and '70s.

1975 brought the end of the war and reunification under the Communist Party. It wasn't an immediate turn-around, however, into post-war euphoria. America imposed trade embargoes and Viet Nam soon became isolated from the rest of the world. The Communists sent many Southerners to re-education camps to train them in the ways of communism, but many of them fled on small boats to escape the hardships (these are the so-called "boat people"). These were hard times for all the Vietnamese people, north and south. Food and other items were purchased by stamps issued by the government, but those were scarce. Land was redistributed to the peasants on communes, but drought and deceased motivation led to small crops. In those days, it was a seldom-realized dream to own a bike or a television.

In 1986, however, this all changed with the introduction of doi moi--free-market economy. Viet Nam gradually opened up to the West and released its iron-fist on the economy, allowing foreigners to come in and make investments. Food and other commodities slowly became more available, construction began to boom as demand for housing and shops exploded in the cities, poverty took a turn downwards, and the gray colors of old Communism were infused with the bright pinks and bold oranges of a new Viet Nam. Of course this process wasn't overnight, but the '90s were an exciting time in this country.

The late '90s brought some deflation to overly-optimistic investors as they ran into blocks from the government and cross-cultural conflicts. But in general, the country is still growing rapidly and changing every day. The skyline contains numerous construction cranes that keep buildings growing higher and higher. The streets are changing too, or so I've been told. There are more chain restaurants (KFC, anyone?), glassed-in stores, and regular buses. Tourists walk the streets without anyone taking a second glance at them--it's not a big deal to have bazungu/foreigners around. This suites me fine! It's nice not to be stared at a lot, like I was in Uganda and Papua New Guinea.

So that's my brief little history. I should write a disclaimer that I have only been here for a week, so I really have no authority on these matters, but I'm just writing what I've heard and observed. This past week I've been like a sponge, soaking in all this new information, new sights and sounds and smells. Rachel and I have started biking, which is a really great way to become familiar with the twisting streets of Ha Noi. I've gone running several times--sometimes around a little lake nearby, sometimes on the roads, blending into the flow of cars, trucks, motorbikes, and bikes. It all just flows around me as I sweat through every pore of my body! We've been to the Temple of Literature, the History Museum, the Ethnography Museum, National Opera House, Ho Chi Minh's Mausoleum, the Old Quarter, and many different restaurants around the city. Tonight we're off to Da Nang in the central provinces with the MCC office staff.

All for now. I'll try to get pictures up soon.

on traffic

Here's a clip of the view from my xe om (motorbike), driving through Ha Noi. Traffic is no problemo as long as you go with the flow and keep the "rules" of the road (like, "only look ahead, not back" and "if there's space, fill it").



ps--I came close to not posting this because it seemed so normal (why would people reading this from the States even care?), but then I remembered that it seemed real crazy when I first arrived. This is the traffic that I now bike and run in (quite the change from the Prairie Path!).

on entering a city of energy

After some 30 hours of travelling, Rachel and I have made it to Ha Noi, a city that could define Energy. I've been in a number of cities, but none compare to this place in terms of active street life, traffic, and general hustle and bustle. The only time there is a lull in activity is from noon to 1:30, when everyone shuts their shops and takes a nap. There is a constant flow of traffic that is easy enough to navigate if you know the rules ("if there's an empty space, take it"); there are many vendors selling their wares on the sidewalk; and lots of people like to walk around the lakes or sit on benches by the water. I still get pretty turned around when we travel places and don't recognize the street to home, but I know that gradually it will become natural to me.

This week is dedicated to in-country orientation, so we're learning all about the history of MCC in Viet Nam, about cross-cultural communication, values and beliefs, etc. Our country directors are also giving us the grand tour of Ha Noi--we've been to Ho Chi Minh's masouleum, the communist buildings (pretty majestic with the old French architecture), the Temple of Literature where the names of students who passed exams are engraved in Chinese on old stone tablets, the Old Quarter (downtown, which was built long before foreigners arrived), the lakes, Craft Link (a fair-trade store that supplies Ten Thousand Villages crafts) and so much more. Next week we're taking a trip with the MCC staff, then after that work and language study begin in ernest and I'll move in with my host family.

So... all is well here. I'm excited to make this place my home. Pictures to come when I can get to it. Thanks for reading. I would love to hear from you too!

Vietnam-bound

Tomorrow (actually, just a little later this morning) my nomadic life takes another turn: I begin orientation with the Mennonite Central Committee (www.mcc.org) for my trip to Vietnam. I'm taking the early morning train from Albany, NY to Akron, Pennsylvania. Next Saturday the 18th, I fly out of Philadelphia, through Los Angeles, on to Taiwan, and finally, 30 some hours later, to Hanoi. I'm not quite sure what my days will look like. My official title is "Communications Officer and Peace Intern," which could include web-site updating, writing journal articles, helping with documentaries, planning MCC interfaith conferences, teaching workshops in communication, and doing PR for a new NGO. I might also be able to get involved in the music scene in Hanoi by taking lessons on a traditional instrument or playing my flute in some ensemble. I thing I know for SURE that I'll be doing is learning Vietnamese!

So... signing out until Hanoi...
Anna

Lake Winnipesaukee

I was flooded with memories from my childhood as I drove down the Merrymount Lake road, came down the steps from the parking area, and walked into "Sunset," the big family house. Everything smelled the same, most things looked the same, my extended family (mom's side) was all there to greet, and a wonderful breeze was coming off the lake. It had been about four years since I was last there, and four years is far too long. Since my last summer there, I have been around the world--to Papua New Guinea, Uganda, Europe, and cross-country USA--and felt like a different person coming back to a very familiar home.

If you looked up "vacation" in a dictionary, I'm pretty sure you would find, tucked somewhere among the boring definitions, something like this: "A state of relaxation, usually involving a lake, many boats, and wonderful family. Days are generally spent sleeping in, listening to loons, sailing many hours, cooking together, running, and reading in rocking chairs on a screened-in porch overlooking the lake."

Some days we sailed for so long that my body kept rocking as I lay in bed, the lapping of waves still echoing in my ears. One of my favorite things is to lie on the decks of Tordzus, our beautiful wooden sailboat, and drag my hand in the cool water. When it gets too hot, I just roll over into the water, grab a line hanging off the stern, and drag behind the boat.

Our last day, we watched a slideshow of some of the pictures we had taken. Here are a few of my favorites...

My family

Mt. Chocorua, first looking up at it, then looking out from the top





On another note, back home in upstate NY, I opened the fridge to find something to eat yesterday. Yogurt sounded good, but when I opened the container, there was a half-frozen road-killed herp (salamander) floating around inside. Ai-ya. Let's just say that I changed my mind about being hungry... Turns out that this little herp is actually quite rare and is now headed for the NY state museum. But wow, I guess I don't have to travel overseas to find weird creatures in the fridge! Only in the Batcheller house...

Independence day?

.
the 4th of July
the day when america celebrates her independence
independent from what?
independent of who?
independent for what purpose?

are we so independent,

that we have forgotten what it means
. . . to trust
. . . . . . to love
. . . . . . . . . to rely?

are we so free

that we have become enslaved
. . . to Self
. . . . . . to money
. . . . . . . . . to fashion?

but there are some who are truly free
free to serve others and love from the depths
not independent but interdependent within community

abba, let us be free

(from Lombard Mennonite Church's bulletin cover, July 1)

a day in the life of a recent college grad

So what am I actually doing here, besides taking goofy pictures of myself? Well... every day is different, but here's a look at a somewhat typical one:
6:00-ish : Wake up, go running on the Prairie Path, shower, breakfast, QT, etc
8:30-ish : Bike 20 min to Wheaton, start work at the media lab by going through footage of the Festival of Pacific Arts
12:00 : Lunch with MR crew--we're currently watching a documentary of Metallica. Fun stuff.
1:00 : Back to my FoPA editing on the computer
5:00 : Eat dinner (or whatever's left-over from lunch. I have to work on the whole pack-your-meals thing) outside on the lawn in the sun. Realize that the world has gone on while I've been in the cold basement of the BGC with a computer screen all day.
6:00 : Work sound for a conference event. Yup, I'm the girl (or "light-man" as some have called me...) in the back who everyone curses if something goes wrong and everyone ignores if all goes well. Watch Uganda music videos on YouTube while my CDs are burning. :)
9:30 : Bike back home, scrounge around for dinner, watch the news or read, then bed by 10:30.

Repeat.

Gen. 2:18

"Then the Lord God said, It is not good that the man should be alone..." Or woman either, for that matter. And now I know why: otherwise we go CRAAAZY!

I'm living by myself now, until my professor gets back. I spent most of today in front of a computer, getting lots of work done and loving what I'm doing, but then I come home and ... and ... and this is what:

Yeah. God was right. I need people. He's pretty smart like that.


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Pictures!

There are too many pictures to put on this blog, so click here for more road-trip snaps. :-) Also see that link for graduation pics.

Final destination

We've arrived in Seattle! The road trip is over, and we're very glad to be in one place for more than two days. Yesterday we hiked in Glacier National Park, then drove down to Missoula to stay with Elle Walter (hooray! thanks again). So today was our last leg of the journey--about 8 hours through hills and mountains to the Lindvall's house. Pictures to come...

Some photos from Thursday and Friday

An entry from Mary...

Road work. Poor Anna.













On the way out of Colorado

Grand Tetons

We are SO hard core. And so are pancakes.











Our campsite by Jenny Lake

Anna told me to. I think she wanted some time to herself.












On (or off) the trail to Hidden Falls


I wasn't really feeling photogenic...












We continued on the Cascade Canyon trail

But I had fun taking artsy pictures of Anna.

Yellowstone

Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone.













Just to give you an idea how bizarre Yellowstone is.



























This is in America. It is not a movie set. It happened naturally.

















View from hill by our campsite at Mammoth Hot Springs, Yellowstone.

Reflections of faith

A excerpt from my (Anna's) journal, written on a lake in the Grand Tetons... it's a bit long, and I probably wouldn't read it if this was someone else's blog, but here it is, for those who have time...

I sit on an old white fallen tree whose roots kiss the lapping waves of Jenny Lake. I love the sound of lapping water--it brings me back to childhood days lying on a warm wooden sailboat, my hand dragging in the water, the wind cooling my back. If I lift up my eyes from this page, they meet towering mountains, their jagged peaks still covered with snow from a long winter. The smell of pine and newly budding flowers wafts in the air. All I hear is water--the roar of a fall in the distance--and my own blood rushing through my body. It is peaceful in this place.

Places like this quiet me, as if I'm in a sanctuary and don't want to disturb the presence of the Most Holy. I can't explain God or faith or grace or any of those big terms like escatology I learned at Wheaton. All I know is that, somehow, for some reason, at some time, this Mystery spoke into darkness and declared that It Is Good. Who am I? Again, I can't explain it, but somehow, for some reason, at this present time, this Mystery chooses me and loves me.

It is in this Mystery that I rest and am at peace. I do not have all the answers (or all the questions either, for that matter), but I rest in the knowledge of a Redeemer who is calling me forth, calling the world forth, into a holistic restoration of relationship.

My image of God now is like the reflection in the water before me. All I can discern, through the ripples, are large shapes and rough colors. A dark block here, a lighter streak there. I know that the water reflects the true image of the mountains, yet it is far from clear. And that's how I perceive God at this point in life--I know some aspects of His character, but He is largely unclear. What I rest in is the assurance that beyond the reflections, over the ripples is a God so magnificent and real that were I to see Him, see Her now, my eyes would not be able to behold the glory.

...come, everyone who thirsts,
come to the waters...

Aspen

We hiked and hiked all day
Until college stress went away
With sun on our cheeks
And snow on the peaks
We've not been this happy for weeks!

In the morning, we hiked in Aspen and discovered the reason for the name--
so many stands of Aspen trees, reaching high up into the blue sky.

Mary and Bonnie stand on a bridge over troubled water...
(can you tell we've been listening to that Simon & Garfunkel CD a lot?)

In the afternoon, we tried to drive up to Maroon Bells but the road was closed. We walked for over three miles on the road, enjoying the beautiful views, but then found out we weren't even half-way. With sadness, we turned around and walked back to the car, Mary in bare feet and Tanner happily trotting along.

Our last exploration was at a ghost town in Ashcroft, a silver mine that went bust. The following poem, written nearby, depicts the hard life that the miners were trying to hold onto:

The Prospector
When our grub pile's slim and scanty
Not a dollar in the shanty,
And our threadbare garments letting in daylight:
The pay-streak still eluding,
And barren dykes intruding,
And we are chased by harsh collectors day and night
When our efforts lose their footing,
Our pard's insults sure cutting,
And misfortune's cruel jeers and sneers are keen
From our Ashcroft habitation
We behold bleak desolation
When scar Autumn's gold's transformed to silver gleen.
(-Jack Leahy-)

Tomorrow we're on to the Grand Tetons! Woot!

Into the mountains!

...a travelogue from Anna...

After driving hundreds of miles on vast, flat land, we let out a whoop when we first spied mountains looming over Denver, CO. Within one hour we went from land literally flatter than a pancake, to twisting roads, rocky canyons, and snow-peaked mountains. I have officially decided that mountains are far superior to great flat plains and would much rather live the life of a mountain goat than a plains buffalo.

We stopped in Denver to stock up on oil, a tire gague, and radiator fluid. It took us several trips between the car and the store to figure out exactly what kinds we needed, but we finally came out with a large bag of goodies. We spied a grocery store across the parking lot and decided to see what they might have to offer for our lunch. After wandering around the small store, we found some injera--Ethiopian sponge bread. I have eaten at Ethiopian restaurants before and loved the bread, so Mary and I decided to buy the package of five large injera and soup to dip it in. As we were talking about it, we met a Mestizo man who works at the attached café. Our conversation with him reminded me of conversations I had with people in East Africa--there's a certain sense of curiousity about one another. We headed for a park to eat our injera and soup. We both ripped off pieces to scoop up the soup, but Mary was put off by the 'alcoholic' taste to the bread and soon opted for a spoon.

Now we're at Bonnie's house in Basalt, CO. We just played some good rounds of Mennonite Scrabble and are soon off to bed for a long hike tomorrow. Hooray for friends! Hooray for mountains! Hooray for road trips!

Gateway Arch

...a travelogue from Mary...The Gateway Arch is enormous, a gleaming silver that reflects and soars into the blue sky. Its feet are large and firmly planted in the ground, but the top seems to lightly float in the sky even as it melts into it. After doffing our graduation garb, Anna and I entered nomadic lives, and we thought that the Gateway Arch would be a meaningful place to begin our post-graduate journey. We are at once both strongly supported by our families and dear friends and soaring (sputtering?) into a future that, like the sky, seems very large and ambiguous.
We drove through Missouri and a lot of Kansas today, listening to Simon and Garfunkel, eating raisins, and reading Nelson Mandela's autobiography, Long Walk to Freedom. Nelson's only about 23 years old right now, so he and we both have a long ways to go yet. Missouri had lots of hills, farms, and large swathes of trees. It's lovely to drive through such openness. I can feel my soul relaxing like the Mississippi River spreading into a floodplain. Having spent the past four years in the Midwest, however, we're resisting its charms and charging on through towards Aspen. Right now we're in the bathroom of a KOA campsite in western Kansas, because there's an electrical outlet in here.

Yesterday we drove from Wheaton to St. Louis. We had a little bit of a problem leaving: namely, a tire. When I got the tires changed on the lovely car my Great Uncle Frank gave me, I asked them to give me the best old one for a spare. But then I discovered where the car was already hiding a spare, and, besides, the other one was entirely useless, because for some reason they'd given me the part of the tire you make tire swings from. Maybe some of you reading this would know what to do with it, but I personally have no idea how to turn a tire swing into a wheel. It's not environmentally friendly, nor probably legal, to just toss a tire swing. I thought about leaving it by the Wade Center dumpster, but that would not have been right. So we headed off, Anna and I, in our tank tops and sunglasses, with a full car and the tire part of a tire swing. We pulled into a car repair place on Roosevelt, and I asked a young man if I could drop it off. He checked with his boss, who said, "No." I looked as much as I could like a naive maiden in distress, who had thought the nice automobile men would take care of everything. (OK, I didn't have to fake it at all. What on earth were we going to do with a tire sitting in our back seat all the way to Seattle?) The nice young man looked troubled at my predicament, took it, said, "All right, you're fine," and disappeared around the back of the garage.

We got to the church in time for me to take a long nap in the park across the street, while Anna played with her new camera and took pictures of people taking pictures before prom. We were both so glad to be at Grace and Chris's wedding, and to see our dear friend Michelle Heinze. At the reception, we sat with some friendly people from the area. I asked them what a particularly St. Louis thing to do would be. Drew said there was a drag strip outside the city, if we were interested, and the other guy suggested sniping, or else shooting the raccoon that had been raiding his bird feeder. It is illegal to kill snipes, now, because so many people wanted to call themselves snipe shots, so groups of people go out into the woods and night, catch snipes in bags, and then release them again.
We stayed at Anna Moffat's house with some other Wheaties last night. On the way out from the reception, we asked if they wanted to go out. Anna Moffat was like, "Ummm....do you mean like Steak and Shake, or the other kind of out?" Well...

Dear parents: Please don't worry about us. The police have got us covered.