Like most adventures, coming home from Ghana felt a little... Well... Anticlimatic. I had an amazing time but needless to say the week flew by and it seemed suddenly Joe and I were back on the plane (where we were sanitized) and heading home. Once we got back, I gave everyone their gifts and then Joe left the project and I was left with this footage thinking – what do I do now? Things didn’t feel over. It seemed like it was part of a larger story. What is this life I’m leading now? What does it look like? The trip to Africa felt like just a part of it rather than the total IT. Everyone around me was either very seriously attached, married and/or starting a family of their own. I couldn’t see my life in theirs anymore and Africa didn’t change any of that (of course). It’s not that I necessarily expected it to, but after it was over I felt like it was more of an inauguraul entry into a new life rather than the culmination of something. Like it or not, my life isn’t going to be filled with coming home to a husband or partner. It’s not about sleepless nights with a crying baby. So what is it? The question again comes back to – what is my Plan B?
The answer is: Adventure.
A couple of months back from Ghana, I had an idea. A short comedy about a woman who’s friends go to extreme measures to help her get over her husband leaving. It was about 10 pages long and just launched out of me onto the page. When it was finished, I gave it to Alicia to see what she thought. The next thing I know, we’re talking about adding it to the On the Leesh roster of projects and she’s asking me if I have any interest in directing. Me, direct? I’ve never directed a film before. I always looked at having someone else direct my words as it being a safety net for the script. Writer/directors don’t always have the ability to see the forest for the trees when something isn’t working – and I greatly feared that. But isn’t that what this year is about – doing things I fear?
Suddenly, part 2 of my story was becoming clear.
Here we go... I was going to direct a film! And so... I introduce you to “Milestone”.
Showing posts with label africa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label africa. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Friday, April 3, 2009
Best Laid Plans (Part 18)
Voodoo (Part 2)
So there I am in a hut with my fellow traveler, Jodee and two women from the voodoo village. They’re helping us take our shirts and shoes off. Yep, shirts were coming off. Honestly, beyond my initial surprise at the priest’s request, the first thing that came to mind was ‘why in the hell did I wear the fartiest bra in the world that day’. Oh well...
After Jodee and I took our shirts off, the very gentle women then wrapped us in white sheets. So there we stood, wrapped and ready for the church. The Voodoo priest told the group that appropriate attire whilst in the church did not include shoes or a shirt. So while the men just disrobed out outside, Jodee and I were taken to a more private area.
Then we were ready.
Our group was escorted into the church. I didn’t know what to expect in there – I didn’t know just how ill the people would be and what sort of ceremonies would take place. It also wasn’t a church in the way that I knew them. It didn’t have tall ceilings, it didn’t have a steeple, or pews, but it was an honored, though makeshift space. The benches were in an L shape and the priest and his assistant sat in chairs at the front. Our group filed in and sat down on the nearest benches and, after a hello from the parishioners, the music began. It was loud and beautiful and heartfelt. I don’t know what I had anticipated I’d feel when I went into that church, but it was not this. It was like the rest of the world closed down and there was only this space with these people. The music and the singing was amazingly engaging and then, two-by-two, people got up and danced toward the priest. This was a celebration and nobody seemed ill at all. It was like they were all borrowing energy from each other and were moved to move. Clearly, what I don’t know about voodoo is a lot.
Robert and Richard turned to me again to see if I wanted to say something to the priest about my heartbreak. I couldn’t do it. First of all, I’m sure that all of these people had way bigger issues that required his attention and secondly, I didn’t want anything to invade this experience.
So here’s my advice... If you ever have the opportunity to go to a voodoo village in Ghana, do it.
So there I am in a hut with my fellow traveler, Jodee and two women from the voodoo village. They’re helping us take our shirts and shoes off. Yep, shirts were coming off. Honestly, beyond my initial surprise at the priest’s request, the first thing that came to mind was ‘why in the hell did I wear the fartiest bra in the world that day’. Oh well...
After Jodee and I took our shirts off, the very gentle women then wrapped us in white sheets. So there we stood, wrapped and ready for the church. The Voodoo priest told the group that appropriate attire whilst in the church did not include shoes or a shirt. So while the men just disrobed out outside, Jodee and I were taken to a more private area.
Then we were ready.
Our group was escorted into the church. I didn’t know what to expect in there – I didn’t know just how ill the people would be and what sort of ceremonies would take place. It also wasn’t a church in the way that I knew them. It didn’t have tall ceilings, it didn’t have a steeple, or pews, but it was an honored, though makeshift space. The benches were in an L shape and the priest and his assistant sat in chairs at the front. Our group filed in and sat down on the nearest benches and, after a hello from the parishioners, the music began. It was loud and beautiful and heartfelt. I don’t know what I had anticipated I’d feel when I went into that church, but it was not this. It was like the rest of the world closed down and there was only this space with these people. The music and the singing was amazingly engaging and then, two-by-two, people got up and danced toward the priest. This was a celebration and nobody seemed ill at all. It was like they were all borrowing energy from each other and were moved to move. Clearly, what I don’t know about voodoo is a lot.
Robert and Richard turned to me again to see if I wanted to say something to the priest about my heartbreak. I couldn’t do it. First of all, I’m sure that all of these people had way bigger issues that required his attention and secondly, I didn’t want anything to invade this experience.
So here’s my advice... If you ever have the opportunity to go to a voodoo village in Ghana, do it.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Best Laid Plans (Part 16)
Here's the thing... I'm in okay shape. I'm not ready to run a marathon or anything, but I'm pretty capable of carrying semi-heavy loads around. Adept in construction I'm not, but toting things around is totally feasible for me. However, I am (and was) not quite in the necessary shape to carry a freshly cut tree plank from the woods to a construction site. How do I know this, you ask?
Well, see, one day during my week in the village, our group was told to venture into the neighboring woods. We followed Robert down a narrow path and came upon a newly cut humungous tree. The tree had been cut into long planks of wood and that wood needed to get to the construction site, and we were the ones that had to do it. Looking at the longest freaking planks of wood I'd ever seen I thought of those weird health surveys you sometimes have to fill out at the gym or at a doctor's office. Like -
'how quickly do you get out of breath when exercising?'
'how fast can you run a mile?'
'how many wet tree planks can you carry from the woods?'
I had a partner with me, ready to carry the damn plank from this chopped tree to the building site, just as everyone else did. Though it did seem that nobody else's mouth was hanging as far open as mine was. There they'd go, two-by-two, a plank on their head, trudging down the overgrown path, across the dirt road and up to the computer center. Everyone was doing it. I hadn't quite experienced peer pressure like this before. Frankly, I think I would've been more comfortable if the group had taken me out to the woods, surrounded me and offered me cocaine. That, I think I'd be fully able to comprehend how to handle. This, I had no reference point for.
I looked over at my fully willing (and strong) partner. He was ready. And I said to myself - isn't this why I came all the way to Africa - to experience things I had no reference point for? Sure, I anticipated that those things would be more along the lines of new environments, new food, new sites (new bugs), but you simply can't anticipate everything. I mean, when I walk along the lanes of my local park, I'm not exactly observing the vegetation as something that I'm going to pick up and carry to my home. So there I am, in the woods, terrified that I'm going to drop this plank, thereby injuring my poor partner in labor. Of course, everyone is saying that maybe the 5'1" girl should avoid the heavy plank and do something else, but I've been presented with a challenge and I hate backing down from challenges.
They put it on my head.
The plank begins to sink into my brain.
My partner says he's ready to begin the walk back to the site.
The plank sinks further into my brain.
I adjust said plank a little.
I fear brain damage.
[Note: this is the moment in the hollywood story when the protagonist rises up and defeats the challenge. This is their moment of triumph! Success! This is not one of those stories]
I call it quits.
Afraid for, not only mine, but my partner's brain, I say I can't do it. Joe takes over and I try to film him.
Ah, failure. I feel that I'm getting to know you quite well.
The fact is, when you are facing down a failure as big as your marriage breaking down, it makes every other failure that occurs in the same timeframe seem as if it's quite massive. So, while not being able to carry the freaking wood from the forest to the center might seem like a small thing, I was quite pissed and embarrassed. I am getting a divorce AND I can't carry planks of wood. What use am I?
And you can see how the thought process degrades from there...
Joe, of course, was thrilled because it all made for better television programming. CONFLICT! YIPPEE!
Oh, and by the way, do you know who carried the remaining planks of wood? The women of the village. One by one, they carried their very own plank of fresh, wet wood (which were probably around 200lbs. each).
Huh.
Well, see, one day during my week in the village, our group was told to venture into the neighboring woods. We followed Robert down a narrow path and came upon a newly cut humungous tree. The tree had been cut into long planks of wood and that wood needed to get to the construction site, and we were the ones that had to do it. Looking at the longest freaking planks of wood I'd ever seen I thought of those weird health surveys you sometimes have to fill out at the gym or at a doctor's office. Like -
'how quickly do you get out of breath when exercising?'
'how fast can you run a mile?'
'how many wet tree planks can you carry from the woods?'
I had a partner with me, ready to carry the damn plank from this chopped tree to the building site, just as everyone else did. Though it did seem that nobody else's mouth was hanging as far open as mine was. There they'd go, two-by-two, a plank on their head, trudging down the overgrown path, across the dirt road and up to the computer center. Everyone was doing it. I hadn't quite experienced peer pressure like this before. Frankly, I think I would've been more comfortable if the group had taken me out to the woods, surrounded me and offered me cocaine. That, I think I'd be fully able to comprehend how to handle. This, I had no reference point for.
I looked over at my fully willing (and strong) partner. He was ready. And I said to myself - isn't this why I came all the way to Africa - to experience things I had no reference point for? Sure, I anticipated that those things would be more along the lines of new environments, new food, new sites (new bugs), but you simply can't anticipate everything. I mean, when I walk along the lanes of my local park, I'm not exactly observing the vegetation as something that I'm going to pick up and carry to my home. So there I am, in the woods, terrified that I'm going to drop this plank, thereby injuring my poor partner in labor. Of course, everyone is saying that maybe the 5'1" girl should avoid the heavy plank and do something else, but I've been presented with a challenge and I hate backing down from challenges.
They put it on my head.
The plank begins to sink into my brain.
My partner says he's ready to begin the walk back to the site.
The plank sinks further into my brain.
I adjust said plank a little.
I fear brain damage.
[Note: this is the moment in the hollywood story when the protagonist rises up and defeats the challenge. This is their moment of triumph! Success! This is not one of those stories]
I call it quits.
Afraid for, not only mine, but my partner's brain, I say I can't do it. Joe takes over and I try to film him.
Ah, failure. I feel that I'm getting to know you quite well.
The fact is, when you are facing down a failure as big as your marriage breaking down, it makes every other failure that occurs in the same timeframe seem as if it's quite massive. So, while not being able to carry the freaking wood from the forest to the center might seem like a small thing, I was quite pissed and embarrassed. I am getting a divorce AND I can't carry planks of wood. What use am I?
And you can see how the thought process degrades from there...
Joe, of course, was thrilled because it all made for better television programming. CONFLICT! YIPPEE!
Oh, and by the way, do you know who carried the remaining planks of wood? The women of the village. One by one, they carried their very own plank of fresh, wet wood (which were probably around 200lbs. each).
Huh.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Best Laid Plans (Part 14)
After the long journey from Accra to Ho, our van pulled into a long dirt driveway. A small, unassuming bar stood at the corner of the road. We’d all come to know this bar as the place to relax on a break or as a way to end the evening. Further on down the drive, there was a large concrete building that was well built and looked rather new. This was to be our home. All of us expressed surprise at the accommodations and I’ll admit that I was glad it wasn’t just me who had anticipated a much more ad hoc dwelling. Each room had two single beds and their own bathroom with... wait for it... flushing European-style toilets! We were told that there wasn’t anything but cold water to be had, but frankly, we’d all assumed that was going to be the case so that was no surprise. But finding out that I had a nice place to put my tushy when nature called felt like a gift from heaven. The place felt almost decadent!
After getting set up in the rooms, Richard picked us up and took us to his place in Ho. There we met his friend and partner, Robert. Robert and Richard – along with working with Globe Aware - had started their own nonprofit called DIVOG (Disaster Volunteers of Ghana). Their group does similar work to Globe Aware and Richard and Robert often host the DIVOG volunteers in their own home. At the time I was there, Robert had given one bedroom of his two bedroom home to two volunteers from Spain while, him, his wife, their children and another family member all stayed in the other room. Their dedication was extraordinary and their energy unbelievable.
After we all settled into his living room, Richard (finally) explained how we’d be spending our week! Every day, we’d be driving about 40 minutes outside of Ho to a small village called Tsyome-Afedo.
Our assignment was to help build a computer center in the village. The project had been started by past groups, but needed a lot more additional work before it was ready. So there it was – a fear realized - I was told I’d be doing construction work. I’d be building something that people were expected to be able to USE. Not only were people going to need to use the building, but they’d also be storing expensive computer equipment between the four walls that I, a lady who often has others change her light bulbs, would be helping to build. In a faraway place, I could hear laughter... I believe it was the ‘get-off-your-ass-and-do-something-gods’ challenging me to, well, get off of my ass.
As would often happen throughout the project, my trepidation brought a big smile to Joe’s face.
Did I remember to bring band-aids?
After getting set up in the rooms, Richard picked us up and took us to his place in Ho. There we met his friend and partner, Robert. Robert and Richard – along with working with Globe Aware - had started their own nonprofit called DIVOG (Disaster Volunteers of Ghana). Their group does similar work to Globe Aware and Richard and Robert often host the DIVOG volunteers in their own home. At the time I was there, Robert had given one bedroom of his two bedroom home to two volunteers from Spain while, him, his wife, their children and another family member all stayed in the other room. Their dedication was extraordinary and their energy unbelievable.
After we all settled into his living room, Richard (finally) explained how we’d be spending our week! Every day, we’d be driving about 40 minutes outside of Ho to a small village called Tsyome-Afedo.
Our assignment was to help build a computer center in the village. The project had been started by past groups, but needed a lot more additional work before it was ready. So there it was – a fear realized - I was told I’d be doing construction work. I’d be building something that people were expected to be able to USE. Not only were people going to need to use the building, but they’d also be storing expensive computer equipment between the four walls that I, a lady who often has others change her light bulbs, would be helping to build. In a faraway place, I could hear laughter... I believe it was the ‘get-off-your-ass-and-do-something-gods’ challenging me to, well, get off of my ass.
As would often happen throughout the project, my trepidation brought a big smile to Joe’s face.
Did I remember to bring band-aids?
Friday, December 12, 2008
On Our Way!
With the recommended dosage of Immodium in my belly, Joe and I got in a cab and journeyed on to our Globe Aware meeting point. In the cab, I was amazed by all of the people on the street selling goods – everything from hairbrushes to snacks. When the cab stopped at a red light, the car was quickly surrounded by people selling their goods/products. Beautifully balancing their items on their head, they’d try to sell their goods to anyone willing. Although it took some time to get used to being surrounded by people whenever the car came to a halt, neither Joe or I felt accosted or anything like that. In some ways, one can see how practical this commerce system is. I think of it as their version of the drive-thru. I wonder though, if the practicality goes both ways. For the driver, it is a very convenient system, but is that true for the seller, stuck outside in the rain and trying to get interest in their sliced fruit? I don’t know.
Our cab driver took us to the Pink Hostel in a different neighborhood in Accra. Again, the lack of familiar addresses made it difficult to ask to go somewhere, but our driver got us their quickly and with ease. Joe and I were the first to arrive at the meeting spot. The small mini-van was waiting, but none of the participants, nor the head of the Globe Aware program in Ghana, Richard, were there. We were told Richard had gone to pick up some of the participants and was on his way back.
The quiet, serene street was in opposition to my mounting excitement. I wanted to be on our way. I wanted to see the Volta region – where we were staying, who we’d be working with, what we’d be doing. Not long after we’d arrived, a cab pulled up and out came a man with a backpack. This was Scott. Not on the original list of participants, Scott, in a constant state of wanderlust, had decided to come at the last minute. In just a few minutes of conversation, I discovered that he’d been to many, many places in the world for work and for recreation. I was immediately envious. What would life be like spending 6 months here, 6 months there? Nervously, I told Scott the project that I was embarking on. Quickly he agreed to be a part of it and said he didn’t mind being filmed. Whew! One down!
A short while after Scott arrived, another cab pulled up and out came Richard – greeting Joe and I with a warm hug and kind eyes. Also exiting the cab were Jodee, Wayne and their son, Wyatt. A family filled with energy and wrapped in bug-sprayed bandannas, they loquaciously described the problems they encountered in getting to Accra. How they were stuck in Nigeria for a time, how Wyatt had gotten sick on the journey and how they didn’t know if they were going to get to the meeting place on time. Joe and I then explained our project and all 3 seemed excited by the prospect.
Richard interrupted our conversation to explain that we were still waiting for two more participants – a writer, George, and his son Eamon. George was delayed at a jewlers, so Richard said it would be easier to pick him up there.
We packed the van and then crowded in. Joe and I sat in the back and observed everyone else. A short drive later, we arrived at the meeting place to pick George and his son up. With two more in tow, we smushed into the now, very tightly packed van and began our journey to the Volta Region.
I had to steal myself thinking about how amazing it was that this was happening. Joe and I had our press passes, Richard had had a long talk with a representative at the Ministry of Information’s Office and cleared our trip and all but George and Eamon had agreed to be on film.
I was in Africa. I was in Ghana. This was happening.
Our cab driver took us to the Pink Hostel in a different neighborhood in Accra. Again, the lack of familiar addresses made it difficult to ask to go somewhere, but our driver got us their quickly and with ease. Joe and I were the first to arrive at the meeting spot. The small mini-van was waiting, but none of the participants, nor the head of the Globe Aware program in Ghana, Richard, were there. We were told Richard had gone to pick up some of the participants and was on his way back.
The quiet, serene street was in opposition to my mounting excitement. I wanted to be on our way. I wanted to see the Volta region – where we were staying, who we’d be working with, what we’d be doing. Not long after we’d arrived, a cab pulled up and out came a man with a backpack. This was Scott. Not on the original list of participants, Scott, in a constant state of wanderlust, had decided to come at the last minute. In just a few minutes of conversation, I discovered that he’d been to many, many places in the world for work and for recreation. I was immediately envious. What would life be like spending 6 months here, 6 months there? Nervously, I told Scott the project that I was embarking on. Quickly he agreed to be a part of it and said he didn’t mind being filmed. Whew! One down!
A short while after Scott arrived, another cab pulled up and out came Richard – greeting Joe and I with a warm hug and kind eyes. Also exiting the cab were Jodee, Wayne and their son, Wyatt. A family filled with energy and wrapped in bug-sprayed bandannas, they loquaciously described the problems they encountered in getting to Accra. How they were stuck in Nigeria for a time, how Wyatt had gotten sick on the journey and how they didn’t know if they were going to get to the meeting place on time. Joe and I then explained our project and all 3 seemed excited by the prospect.
Richard interrupted our conversation to explain that we were still waiting for two more participants – a writer, George, and his son Eamon. George was delayed at a jewlers, so Richard said it would be easier to pick him up there.
We packed the van and then crowded in. Joe and I sat in the back and observed everyone else. A short drive later, we arrived at the meeting place to pick George and his son up. With two more in tow, we smushed into the now, very tightly packed van and began our journey to the Volta Region.
I had to steal myself thinking about how amazing it was that this was happening. Joe and I had our press passes, Richard had had a long talk with a representative at the Ministry of Information’s Office and cleared our trip and all but George and Eamon had agreed to be on film.
I was in Africa. I was in Ghana. This was happening.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Globe Aware Begins
[note: once again my apologies for the lateness of this next installment... work has been crazy but it's been all good things!]
Finally! Globe Aware’s official start day arrives! I woke up with such anticipation for the days to come. What would we be doing? What would the group be like? Would they be open to the documentary? Globe Aware had said that they were going to mention it to the other volunteers, but I wasn’t counting on anything. That morning, Joe and I had a hearty breakfast in the hotel’s dining room and made our way back to our room to gather all of our things. The butterflies in my stomach were whirling like nobody’s business as the time ticked by. I continued packing, Joe continued organizing the equipment and my butterflies seemed to be reproducing. Wow! I guess I’m really nervous, I thought. Very quickly I realized that it was not butterflies at all. I ran passed Joe and made my way to the bathroom. (For those of you who are now rolling your eyes at my potty recollections, too bad – you wanted an honest account so here goes!) I’m sure I don’t have to go into more detail than simply noting that I got to know the bathroom quite well that morning. I believe it’s a universal enough feeling to be able to stop there, don’t you.
The time ticked by...
I finally opened the door and almost slammed into the camera – leering at me. Seems while I was busy taking care of my business, Joe was busy taking care of his. He’d waited in the room, red record light flashing, beckoning me to well... Flush.
I. Had. The. Poops.
Downing the recommended amount of Immodium, I yelled at Joe to turn the camera off and checked out of the hotel. Goodbye bathroom... Hello long journey to Ho.
I hope it’s not a bumpy ride.
Finally! Globe Aware’s official start day arrives! I woke up with such anticipation for the days to come. What would we be doing? What would the group be like? Would they be open to the documentary? Globe Aware had said that they were going to mention it to the other volunteers, but I wasn’t counting on anything. That morning, Joe and I had a hearty breakfast in the hotel’s dining room and made our way back to our room to gather all of our things. The butterflies in my stomach were whirling like nobody’s business as the time ticked by. I continued packing, Joe continued organizing the equipment and my butterflies seemed to be reproducing. Wow! I guess I’m really nervous, I thought. Very quickly I realized that it was not butterflies at all. I ran passed Joe and made my way to the bathroom. (For those of you who are now rolling your eyes at my potty recollections, too bad – you wanted an honest account so here goes!) I’m sure I don’t have to go into more detail than simply noting that I got to know the bathroom quite well that morning. I believe it’s a universal enough feeling to be able to stop there, don’t you.
The time ticked by...
I finally opened the door and almost slammed into the camera – leering at me. Seems while I was busy taking care of my business, Joe was busy taking care of his. He’d waited in the room, red record light flashing, beckoning me to well... Flush.
I. Had. The. Poops.
Downing the recommended amount of Immodium, I yelled at Joe to turn the camera off and checked out of the hotel. Goodbye bathroom... Hello long journey to Ho.
I hope it’s not a bumpy ride.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Best Laid Plans (Part 10)
The Countdown Has Begun!
Joe and I head out in two days! Already packed and ready to go is our cancer in a bottle – better known as deet bug spray, some toilet paper for those ‘just in case’ moments, immodium, pepto, our visas, passports, customs letters, sunscreen, band aids, malaria pills, flashlights and a very sexy fanny pack. After much trial and error, Joe has also found a protein bar that doesn’t make him wince (for those of you picky eaters out there, your leader opted for the peanut butter flavored clif bars). We purchased lots of those, as well as some additional bars for me. At Alicia’s insistence, we also purchased some mosquito netting for our beds. Not yet sure what we’ll hang it on but I’ve realized that, folded up as it is, it’ll also double as a nice pillow on the plane. I know you might be feeling some major packing component is missing from this list, but not to worry, Joe and I will not be waltzing around Ghana naked. This, for me, is actually the most challenging part of the pre-trip preparation. How can I be sure that my 3-inch black heels won’t be needed at the volunteer site? Are chandelier earrings really excessive? There might be a very appropriate occasion for my sequin top and I would be so disappointed not to have it. Perhaps I can be clothed and Joe can go naked. I bought spf 50, so he should be fully protected as he carries the equipment in his skivvies. Kimberly from Globe Aware says that there is nothing you can’t live without for a week but I beg to differ. So if you happen to be watching CNN this week and here of a story about a naked tourist running around Ghana, know that I did indeed win the battle over bringing the sequined top!
Hopefully, the next time you hear from me, I’ll be in Accra, Ghana!
Joe and I head out in two days! Already packed and ready to go is our cancer in a bottle – better known as deet bug spray, some toilet paper for those ‘just in case’ moments, immodium, pepto, our visas, passports, customs letters, sunscreen, band aids, malaria pills, flashlights and a very sexy fanny pack. After much trial and error, Joe has also found a protein bar that doesn’t make him wince (for those of you picky eaters out there, your leader opted for the peanut butter flavored clif bars). We purchased lots of those, as well as some additional bars for me. At Alicia’s insistence, we also purchased some mosquito netting for our beds. Not yet sure what we’ll hang it on but I’ve realized that, folded up as it is, it’ll also double as a nice pillow on the plane. I know you might be feeling some major packing component is missing from this list, but not to worry, Joe and I will not be waltzing around Ghana naked. This, for me, is actually the most challenging part of the pre-trip preparation. How can I be sure that my 3-inch black heels won’t be needed at the volunteer site? Are chandelier earrings really excessive? There might be a very appropriate occasion for my sequin top and I would be so disappointed not to have it. Perhaps I can be clothed and Joe can go naked. I bought spf 50, so he should be fully protected as he carries the equipment in his skivvies. Kimberly from Globe Aware says that there is nothing you can’t live without for a week but I beg to differ. So if you happen to be watching CNN this week and here of a story about a naked tourist running around Ghana, know that I did indeed win the battle over bringing the sequined top!
Hopefully, the next time you hear from me, I’ll be in Accra, Ghana!
Friday, August 1, 2008
Best Laid Plans (Part 5)
Embassies? Consulates? Press Pass? Whaaa??
I am a narrative girl. I make up stories. I say... lets pretend that so-and-so meets so-and-so in a coffee shop and then... Or, let's make believe that some girl meets some guy in the park and then...
I can for sure say that I've never uttered the words, "Can I document my travels as I traipse around Accra to sightsee, and then make my way to Ho to interview people and volunteer?" Nor have I ever asked my doctor if she wouldn't mind if I film myself getting a shot (and oh please god, let them not put me in the paper apron that opens in the front, while they administer my yellow fever vaccination and capture it for eternity on tape). That is all very real. Sure, I was never the type of writer that told far fetched stories. You'd never catch me spinning a tale about a girl meeting a guy in the park, falling in love, and then combining forces to combat rockets shooting out some secret government bacteria. My story would most likely entail my girl and my guy falling in love and then dealing with, oh, I don't know, relationship issues. So, unless those rockets came with a surprise pregnancy, or a cheating boyfriend/girlfriend, it's not really a story I'm likely to tell.
I should say however, that just because my scripts are usually grounded in reality it does not mean that they are real, so now, my days of documenting the actual is throwing me off a bit. My days consist of Joe's voice humming in the background saying things like: 'Julie's freaking out about plane tickets - let's get this on film!' Or 'Julie's freaking out about getting the press pass - let's get this on film!' 'Julie's freaking out - who cares about what! For godsakes get the freaking camera!'
It's all becoming real in a way that I never considered before: the budget, the plane tickets, the program, the interviews, the shots... yellow fever, hepatitis, malaria pills, tetanus, cipro for extreme diarrhea, an epi pen for my shellfish allergy... oh my... and while I've had many of these shots from previous trips or from swimming in the Hudson River (don't ask), hearing the list once again is, well, not a small thing.
Recently, I told my mother that I've been having anxiety dreams about forgetting to take care of something before Joe and I leave. For example, my dream would have me forgetting something like the malaria pills only to then look down at my leg and see a smiling mosquito eating my ankle for lunch. To this, my wise mother asked, "Then why are you doing this?" I thought to myself, can I answer that it's because I'm getting a divorce? Is that a legitimate response? Should I even care if it's not?
From the stories I've heard, when relationships breakdown, most turn to the bottle, maybe have a lot of sex, refuse to leave the house, or bury their head into a huge tub of ice cream. I don't know that I've heard the old tale of the person making their way to Africa. Yet, I think the thought behind it is the same, and certainly I am not any different from anyone else. You see, while I find myself having an anxiety dream about some Ghanian prison, I find that I'm not having a dream about my husband walking out again. The rotation of ideas and thoughts and reasons for his leaving play less often in my head and is slowly being replaced by the trip. I'd be lying if I said that I planned it this way, because I absolutely didn't. I hoped for a distraction sure, but I never imagined how much this trip would consume me. And it's consumption in the best way possible. Now I'm certainly not negating the building blocks of the drunken stupor, or the night of random sex, or the various flavors of a well-churned ice cream - it's just that that wouldn't do it for me. I needed something more lasting, I guess. I needed something that would match the pace of my racing mind.
And I have to tell you... I think I've found it.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Best Laid Plans (Part 4)
Joe and Julie Go to Ghana
In order to do a documentary about going on a trip, you must have someone there doing the documenting. This someone is a sweet-tart-eating, pancake-loving, root-beer-drinking dude named Joe. Let me be clear on this - the list of foods and beverages that Joe will take into his body can be counted on one hand. Pancakes: Yes. Sweet Tarts: Yes. Root Beer: Yes. Pizza: Yes. Salmon: Yes. Everything else: NO. Many questions arise from this list, such as how salmon somehow got an acceptance letter to Joe's stomach but say, Milky Way bars didn't.
Now, if Joe were standing over me as I wrote this, I'm sure he would throw some more foods and beverages onto this sad little pile, but there wouldn't be many. In fact, a typical non-work conversation between Joe and I goes as follows:
Me: "Hey Joe, what about lasagna? Will you eat lasagna?"
Joe: "No. Gross."
Me: "But you eat pizza and it has basically the same ingredients."
Joe: "But pizza's not gross."
Me: "What about vegetables? Don't you eat any vegetables?"
Joe: "No. I talk alfalfa pills."
Me: "Joe, you need to be studied by the AMA."
Joe: "Bring it on."
Somehow, every conversation degrades into me telling Joe that the American Medical Association should study him and Joe expounding on the power of alfalfa pills.
So, when I was first thinking about doing this documentary and initially talked to Joe about whether he was interested in going with me, my first question was not, 'are you interested?' or 'how do you envision this,' it was "what in the hell are you going to eat???"
Joe promises me that he will "iron man it" as he likes to say, but we've been planning this documentary for awhile now and I have yet to see him show the slightest bit of interest in any foods outside of his safety list. So now on my Ghana 'to do' list I have: visas, shots, permissions and ensuring that Joe doesn't whither away and die from lack of food and drink. I have also promised him one carry-on bag filled with Sweet Tarts, but I'm not exaggerating when I say that I've wondered if Customs will assume that Joe and I are somehow carting drug laced candies with us, since nobody would understand needing to carry an entire bag of Sweet Tarts with them. Though I also realize that I tend toward worrying... while Joe tends toward... relaxing.
Yes, this is going to be a great partnership.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Best Laid Plans (Part 2)
Why Ghana?
Okay, multiple choice. If you had to couple your husband walking out on you with one of the following, would you choose:
a. in the same day, somebody makes a copy of your bank card and steals $2,000 from your accounts while your cell phone conks out and you have no land line in your apartment.
b. your cell phone bill spikes to over $500 because you no longer have rollover minutes from your husband's account
c. your dog requires a biopsy for a bump on her back
d. all of the above
Well folks, whether it was just a run of bad luck, a case of bad ju ju or the gods coming together to hit me with a can of whup ass, I was faced with choice d (though I struggle with the word "choice"). In the months after my husband left, I felt like I was surrounded by those weird black-liquidy spirits that took down the bad characters in "Ghost." Had I been approached by a cult in those days, I probably would've asked them to lead the way to the compound. All I wanted was to escape somewhere and dive head first into the sand. To quiet my brain a bit, I began contemplating where I could escape to. My family had a big trip planned, but that was planned with my husband in mind and was somewhere I'd been with him before. Because of that, I knew I'd feel like he was still there - a hologram of him - following me around, reminding me that his actual body was decidedly absent.
So back in my dreamscape, I thought about where I could go. New factors that I was faced with regarding vacationing were:
1. Giving myself enough time to save money
2. Feeling at east with going by myself
2. Trying to find something that I'd always wanted to do but had never had the chance to due to compromising with someone else.
First, an Earthwatch vacation popped into my head. I'd always wanted to do one and I figured that, since I'd be with a group of volunteers, traveling alone wouldn't really be an issue. They're an environmental organization that offers volunteer vacations in which you learn and do work for any number of different projects. You can search for butterflies in Vietnam, do marine research on a boat in Greece, work on an animal preserve in Africa, etc. You are limited only by your finances and your interests. My personal idea was to try to become one with the dolphins. Me and Flipper, coasting the waters in Greece... can a human marry a dolphin? Has that been on the ballot recently?
Then I found an organization called Globe Aware. They too offer volunteer vacations, but with a more Peace Corp-type bend to the work. (By the way, in a moment of utter confusion, I looked into the actual Peace Corp, but then realized that two years without my dog would make me feel like my left arm had been cut off). Globe Aware's projects span the world and in their list of destinations was Ghana. I'd always wanted to go to Africa, and the idea of going half-way around the world to either teach or assist in building much needed facilities (ASSIST being the operative word), really excited me. Their vacations are only a week long so it wouldn't require too much time off of work, and if I went in August I'd have plenty of time to save (provided I never set foot in any clothing stores in said time frame). Globe Aware addresses lone female travelers on their website and they also focus on safety and security. I was in. All of my criteria were being met:
Could go by myself: Yes
Time to save: Yes
Could do something I'd always wanted to do: Yes, Yes, Yes
I was off...
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