Nice To Meet You, Rainier

When I got home from watching "Jaws" at 1:30 a.m. last Friday night, I had a facebook message from a girl in my program inviting me to go to Mt. Rainier the next day. It took me about 2 seconds to reply in the affirmative, and a few hours of sleep later, she (Mary), her partner (Lindsay) and I were heading down the 5. We basked in fall sunshine the entire two hour drive down there, only to encounter mist, clouds and fog the minute we entered Mount Rainier National Park. We didn't actually see the top of the mountain the entire time that we were on the mountain, but we did see a variety of stunning waterfalls, fluorescent red and orange plants that lit the cliffs on fire, and a dramatically rocky river bed. Lack of memorable vistas aside, it felt so good to be out of the city (even though where I live feels so much less "city" than what I'm used to) and out hiking. Rainier is cool because it's not part of a mountain range - it's just its own isolated mammoth self. It feels like a lonely and personal mountain that you can wrap yourself around. I figured the time that I spent bonding with him and connecting with the nature all around would accelerate the writing process on the paper I had to write that night. And it did ... kind of. On the way home, when we were about 30 minutes outside of Seattle, Lindsay gently aroused me from my car nap to have me look out the back window: there was the glorious top of Rainier projecting out of its cloudy lower half.

Outrage

Everyone knows that Native Americans were forcefully removed from their lands by the US government, but today in a really intense and moving class, I learned some of the horrific details. On the floor of Congress it was said that that the best way to exterminate the savages was through rum. They also employed germ warfare that involved the distribution of blankets contaminated with smallpox. The government promoted the hunting of buffalo as a way to starve the Plains Indians and force them off their land in search of other livelihoods. There are also numerous instances when American soldiers slaughtered unarmed women and children, like at the Massacre of Wounded Knee. Apparently, Hitler took some inspiration from the forced march of the Indian tribes from the deep south to Oklahoma along what is now referred to as the Trail of Tears, implemented as a result of Andrew Jackson's Indian Removal Act of 1830. The natives were forced to march during the winter and thousands died.

Later, the government's policy became more about ethnocide - the elimination of a culture - than genocide. For example, they forced Indian children into boarding schools. Their stated mission was to "kill the Indian, save the man." These schools were run by priests who were exiled by the mainstream church. (The Native community was apparently not surprised at the recent priest scandals.) Some children didn't see their families for 6,7,or 8 years. (Sounds a lot like Chinese Olympic athletes!) There was thus a generation of Indian children who hadn't been parented, who hadn't learned how to parent, who were possibly the victims of abuse, and who had no sense of their cultural identity. These children were being prepared for jobs as servants in well-to-do homes. Like African-Americans, American Indians were also used in experimental medication including practice eye surgeries, sterilization and TB experiments. In 1883, the Indian Religious Crimes Code made it illegal to practice Indian rituals or ceremonies under threat of withholding rations or imprisonment. That was the law until the 1978 American Indian Religious Freedom Act. Can you believe that it was illegal for Native Americans to practice their religion until 1978?! The professor whizzed through her presentation, and we she finished, we all just sat there, stunned. Today, Native Americans have three times the poverty rate of any other minority group, as well as higher rates of infant mortality, alcoholism, diabetes and shorter life expectancies. Such are the effects of cumulative disadvantage.

I had institute immediately following this class and the first scripture we read when I walked in was: "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." (Matt. 25:40)

Seattle makes me giddy

I moved to Seattle, Washington a little over two weeks ago, and I currently feel about living here the way you feel when you're just starting to date someone whom you're totally infatuated with: everything about this place makes me a little giddy. While I was in Asia in July, my dad emailed me saying that I had gotten off the wait list at the University of Washington's school of social work. I was only mildly enthused because I had completely ridden it off as an option, and I was pretty set on the idea of taking a year off to do some campaigning and other random "explorations." But UW doesn't allow you to defer a year, and it just seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up. As I started to work out the details of what my new life in Seattle would entail, all the pieces gradually fell into place and I became increasingly excited. Now I'm pretty much living in my equivalent of an utopia. Here's why:

The Social Work Program
"Social work seems like the perfect fit for you," said my adviser during our first meeting. We met for an hour-and-a-half and discussed all my academic and career goals. She's right: I feel so at home in the social work department. The classes are rigorous and stimulating, and they are a good balance of the historical/theoretical and the practical. (I'm taking: Poverty and Inequality, Intro to Counseling, Historical & Philosophical Foundations of Social Work, Local Policy and Advocacy, Stats for Social Scientists, and Cultural Diversity in SW. So much reading!) Even more importantly, the social work field spans the spectrum of all my interests: at the micro level, we study individual counseling, therapy and case management; at the mezzo level, we work with institutions on things like educational outreach; and at the macro level, we talk about creating systemic change through policy. We haven't gotten assigned our first internships which will start in January, but I'm hoping for something in the juvenile courts. The program also offers opportunities for research and for international social work.
There are 80 people in my program from across the country: predominantly gay and/or female, all have worked in the field for an average of 2 plus years before entering the program. Lots of Peace Corps alumni. Lots of Marxists. My religiousness is the element of diversity I add to the mix.

The Setting
Where I live feels "urbany" because everything I could possibly need (including TRADER JOE'S!) is just a bike-ride away, but it's "quiet pretty urban" because the neighborhood is made up of small old homes with trees and grass everywhere. We're a 15-minute drive north of dowtown Seattle, and a 7-minute bicycle ride north of UW's campus. A huge fruit/vegetable stand resides around the corner from my house, and Green Lake - with its 3-mile perimeter of bike and running trails - is a five minute walk from home. In a blessed act of mercy, my grandma gave me her '95 Honda Accord which she hadn't been driving, and it makes life so easy. Last week, I didn't get in it for five days, but having it there to run errands is ideal - like when I drove to Goodwill and bought myself a five-dollar dresser, and then drove to Home Depot to buy some red spray paint for it. The bike that I mostly use during the week is my mom's hot pink Schwinn that is almost 20 years old. I almost don't feel cool enough to ride it, but she gave it to me and I love it. The college town street, "The Ave." is also about 2 miles from my house and has used clothes stores, independent movie theaters and great Thai food. Oh, and there's a really intricate bus system all over the city and campus. And a 30-mile bike trail that runs past my house and along the entire east bay. And there's a stunning view of Mt. Ranier from campus...when it's clear.

The Big Pink House
If my current roommates lived in NYC, they're hip enough to live Williamsburg, minus the elitism. They're all in their late 20's, almost all have master's degrees and they've all painted their room funky colors. Individually, they are an art therapist, a Boeing interior design engineer, a high school counselor, a graphic designer and a marriage and family therapist. I gave into the peer pressure and painted my room a happy shade of goldenrod, which was kind of necessary because I have a basement room with low ceilings. There are actually 3 of us who live in the cave: me (Jen), Jill (half grey, half orange walls) and Julie (light fluorescent green walls). I lucked out and have the room with the biggest window which gets lovely afternoon light. We share a low-water-pressure bathroom, then Cassie is on the main floor off the living room and kitchen, and Megan and Kaylene are upstairs with their own bathroom and kitchen. The girls invite people over almost every night and this Friday we're celebrating Megan's birthday with a cat-themed party. We're taking food and decoration suggestions.

The Church
I got a calling as a Relief Society teacher my very first Sunday in the ward. Turns out one of my roommates is the RS president and she had been scoping me out for a job. There are 3 university singles wards and they all meet in the institute building. Each ward is pretty small, which allows for a nice family feel, but there are also a lot of other people to fulfill your mingling needs.
It has always been one of my nerdy dreams to have a real institute building. This one is only 2 miles from my house and just half a block away from the social work building. Institute classes are bi-weekly and meet in the a.m. or during lunch, and there are two full-time teachers. Every Friday the senior missionary couple makes us all a hot lunch for $2.25, and in the building there is library for quiet studying, a ping pong table (I've already taken down a few poor male undergrads), pool table, vending machine and even little frozen dinners in the freezer for purchase. It really feels like a homey community center; I love retreating there during the school day.

The Old Friends
Turns out there are a lot of people here whom I already know and love:
Jill Bodily Jensen was a freshman with me at Stanford and then my roommate junior year in the French House. She is surprisingly serving in my ward with her husband, who is a counselor in my bishopbric. They had me over on my very first Sunday, and today I just got assigned as her visiting teacher. (My companion is a Brasileira!) The Jensen's also feature prominently on my bike trip blog because they were our generous hosts the weekend we spent in the Seattle.
Amie Adams Spjut was one of my favorite girls on the mission and lives here now with her husband and baby daughter, and they've already had me over for dinner twice to share old mission stories and gossip.
Clara Wilkins was on dorm staff with me in Twain my senior year and she's out here doing a PhD in psychology. She's the woman who gave me my first pair of hoop earrings.
Moroni Benalli is another Stanford Ward alumnus who just moved here to start a PhD in public policy.
Abe Allen I know through a friend in Provo and works for Boeing now. He helped me to buy a bed.
Colin Drake was my RA my Sophomore year in Toyon, and he was also one of the other Treat Fellows with whom I went to Asia in 2001. We were together on 9/11 in Singapore. He moved to NYC before I did, and I have followed him to Seattle where he now lives with his wife, whom we always lovingly knew as "Boston Jen."

The Jobs
I got hired by two separate tutoring organizations, TeamUp! Tutors and Club Z, to go into people's homes and tutor rich kids one-on-one. Both pay about $20/hour and it will be nice to keep up my teaching skills and to create some long-term relationships with the families and kids. I haven't gotten any assignments yet, but I'm eager for that to get rolling.

The 2 Bad Things
1. It's already too cold here for me to wear flip-flops. Too bad that I hate wearing close-toed shoes.
2. NPR here seems to be lacking some serious funding because about 50% of the time that I turn it on, it's jazz music. Which is nice of course, but it's no All Things Considered. Come on Microsoft, step up your pledge.

If only I could love a man the way I love this city...

Why I Love Being Home

My younger brother Jeff got home from his mission in France a few days after I got home from Asia, and the past three weeks have consisted primary of playing in the waves, Bourne movies, sleeping in, Mexican food, road trips to grandparents, sit-ups competitions, Olympics mania and other fun nonsense such as this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RE-FSCRxgUQ

patriotic?

When I walked through customs at LAX on August 1st and saw the large painted letters, "Welcome to the United States of America," I got a little choked up. Every time I've re-entered the country, the passport officials say, "Welcome home." I love that. Just a few days earlier, I had seen a picture of a George Washington in Boston at the Thai Princess' photography exhibit. It moved me.

Yet when I lived in France growing up, I was always a little disgusted by my American-ness. As a history major, I was confronted again and again with the U.S.A's evil mistakes. In college, expressing disdain for country was trendy and necessary to prove that you understood its weaknesses. It made you a good liberal.

While I can despise some of our country's policies past (thank you, Howard Zinn) and present (only 4 more months, GWB!!!) , the more time I have spent abroad since my mission, the more my love of country has increased. I love the vastness, the diversity, the land, the innovation, the history, the arts of this nation. I feel deeply grateful for the opportunities my family has had here. These were the thoughts running through my head as I got my passport stamped. (It's full now - I need to get additional visa pages!)

But as my cousin Emily drove me home, I was affronted by the consecutive miles of fast-food chains, the huge gas-guzzling cars only containing one passenger, the strip malls, the inequality, the empty excess. I could feel my warm feelings for America starting to dissipate. It's complicated.

Bangkok's Top 6

1. I almost ran into an elephant on the sidewalk! While deeply engrossed in a conversation with a Luce friend, I suddenly glanced up and saw that I was about to be trampled by a baby elephant. I yelped and my friend pulled me out of the way. Everyone else had seen it coming, and they got a good laugh out of it. Where else in the world can you run into elephants on the streets of a huge city?
2. No were not in a hotel room, but in a MOVIE THEATER. And yes, those are silk pillows and blankets. You can't see it in this picture, but our feet are propped up on the fully reclined foot rest. Before entering the theater, we got free drinks and cookies in an exclusive lounge. Tickets were only $15 and we watched the extremely entertaining "Hancock." This was the best movie-viewing experience ever.
3. Giant reclining Buddha. He gets to lounge on his side in his own temple.
4. Pink Taxis. Need I say more? (There were some combination yellow and green ones too.)
5. Adorable Pakistani tourists. I made friends with these two sisters on the hour-long bus ride back into town from the floating market. They had adorable Indian accents when they spoke English and got really hyper really quickly as we sang and played hand games. Their dad offered to let me take them home with me.
6. A Princess' photography exhibit. Like her father, the beloved king of Thailand, she is an amateur photographer. Her photographs feature her travels around Thailand and the world. One of my favorites was a pictures she took of Times Square with an advertisement for Thai Airlines' direct flight from Bangkok to JFK. They just discontinued that route, and a lot of my friends had to have their flights re-routed through Europe at the last minute.

LAOS DAY 3: into the waterfall

Two tourists died kayaking the day that we were hiking in the jungle. They got caught in a massive whirlpool and had untrained guides. We heard about it that night while we were relaxing in the village. We were scheduled to kayak the next day, but needless to say we were all kind of freaked out. (There's actually an entire page in the Lonely Planet book about safety precautions doing outdoor adventures in Laos. ) Laurel, Michael and I decided instead to explore the massive waterfall that we never found the day we went bike-riding. We spent a couple hours walking in, through, up and around the impressive body of water.

LAOS DAY 2: hacking through the jungle

For our second day, Laurel, Michael and I connected with an eco-tourism company for a two-day adventure: one day trekking, the second day kayaking, with an overnight stay in a Hmong village. Four other American had signed up as well: a lesbian couple from San Fran, and a couple from UNC, Chapel Hill. The six-hour hike was the most intense I have ever done. The difficulty wasn't the incline, even though it was steep, but the extremely muddy trail. Laurel was wearing converse and slipped and took a mud bath within the first 20 minutes. But all of us followed suit at some point. My Chacos were great until a thin layer of mud formed between my foot and the sole of the sandal, and I started sliding all over. (However, I was the only person who didn't finish the day with wet socks.) About an hour of the trekking was on an uncut trail; we pushed through undergrowth that completely enveloped us. We seriously needed a machete, but instead we all incurred awesome scrapes on our legs and arms. At one point, when I was on my hands and knees in mud and couldn't see the sky because of all the brush, I stopped and said to myself, "I'm done. I'm done trying to be hard core. I'm done putting myself through this type of pain." But I had to keep moving, and eventually it got more enjoyable. Check out the amazing view we had!

Because the last part of the hike to the village was on a paved road, our guide hired a tractor to take us the rest of the way. He said he wanted our trip to be "spontaneous." We were pleased to sit, until the tractor's tires started to spin and showered us in terd-sized chunks of mud. It was hysterical.

The tractor took us to a village where different families take turns hosting tourists for a night, and we were put in a typical home: cement floor, no running water, toilet hole for squatting. They did however have electricity and the family was watching a HORRIBLE Lindsay Lohan movie dubbed into Thai (Lao and Thai are extremely similar). Our guide prepared us dinner - right now all I can remember is the sticky rice - and we ate on a mat on the floor. Our dinner entertainment was watching the family cat play with a dying mouse. He (she?) flung it all around our mat so we were frequently jumping out of our seats.

Michael, Laurel and I all slept on one mat under one mosquito net. It was a hilarious night. At one point, I woke up in a panic thinking that a stranger was under our net, and frantically shined my headlamp onto Laurel, who was sitting up because she thought she heard a mouse. We of course woke up Michael, who cursed when I told him that it was only 11pm. Then there was a huge, loud and glorious thunder storm. In a sleeping delirium, Michael uttered, "Should we get into lightning position?" I was too tired to ask what that meant, but we spent the rest of the trip laughing about it.

LAOS DAY 1: lost on a one-geared bike

Our first day in Laos, we tried to ride 35 km to see a waterfall and ended up completely lost in the countryside. Our first problem was that we were too cheap to rent the mountain bikes for $12, so we rented the one-geared city cruisers for $5. Although I would have made all the hipsters of Santa Cruz proud, riding with one gear through the Lao countryside is not very effective: we had to walk our bikes up every single hill. Plus it rained continuously for the first hour. At one point, I thought that Laurel was going to stage a mutiny.

After about three hours, we weren't exactly sure how many far we had gone or where we were, so we started asking locals about a waterfall. The ladies in the gas station laughed at us and told us that it was up a steep hill made of chicken poop. Then, one smart-looking man in a truck told us to take the next right and that it was just 11 more kilometers down that road. When we got to that intersection, there was in fact a giant sign for a waterfall, so we turned down the unpaved, soaking, muddy road. We kept pushing our one-geared mechanisms up the road through the sludge and slush, and we kept walking up every hill.

After another hour of riding over the "chicken poop" road, we asked for directions again and no one had any idea about a waterfall. Then one girl said that she knew of a waterfall that was 100 kilometers further down that road! So starving and hopeless, we tried to catch a ride back to the city. At first we tried with these men who were loading a logging truck (an interesting turn in my relationship with logging trucks from last summer), but they were kind of dismissive. A few minutes later a young guy with a small empty pick-up came and we flashed him some cash and he threw our bikes in the back, put us in the cab, and drove us back to Luang Prabang.

We never reached our goal and our bikes were worthless, but the land we cycled through was amazing. The road was enveloped by hills of green lushness that, from certain vistas, rolled on for miles. At intervals between the jungle-covered hills were pristine rice patties, which are always so romantic to Westerners. When we weren't riding through dramatic slices of nature, we were in the middle of rural villages and all the half-naked children would come and wave at us and say, "Sabadee!" (My tansliteration of Lao for "hi!")

Greetings from Laos

I have a new traveling team! Now it's me, Laurel and another Luce fellow, Michael. The Luce conference concluded in Cambodia, so we had to bid everyone else farewell. I was really sad to say good-bye because they treated me like an honorary Luce and welcomed me excitedly whenever I showed up at one of the their unofficial dinners or hang-outs. A special shout-out here goes to Ed, per his request, for his probing conversation and his company as a fellow non-drinker. All of the Luces have such interesting life stories and such fascinating insights into the Asian cultures in which they lived; I will miss the fun and the intellectual stimulation of our sporadic encounters.

Here are some adjectives to describe my newest travel comp, Michael: lanky, curly-haired, half Mexican-American, generous, yogurt-consuming, Princeton grad, human rights worker, good-humored, Spanish/Portuguese/Korean-speaking, energetic, Brazil-loving, New Jersey-ite, modest, idealistic, cinnamon-carrying, powerful, analytical.

Laurel, by the way, is comfortably conversant in Thai after her year in Thailand, and since Laotian and Thai are extremely similar, she's been our official translator. It's great when people approach us to speak in English and she surprises them by speaking in their own language.

The three of us flew to Luang Prabang, Laos for some hard-core outdoor adventuring including bike riding through villages on unpaved roads, trekking through jungle and playing in waterfalls.