i came, i saw, i duomo-ed

There was a moment this morning when I the pilot on my EL AL flight to Milan said, "It's -1°C on the ground in Italy right now," and even though I'm an American who believes that temperatures should only be read in Fahrenheit dammit, I still knew that -1°C is below 0°C, which is below freezing. Then I realized that the white I was looking at out of my window wasn't clouds but the Italian countryside, completely blanketed in snow. And I knew I didn't bring a winter coat because I'm going to India where the average temperature ranges between 50-75°F in February and this lack of proper outdoor apparel could mean hypothermia. But I decided to go to Milan anyway because what use is sitting in the airport for ten hours anyway?

the holiest place i've ever seen

Yesterday, Max and I went to Jerusalem. We got to the Western Wall in the Old City right before sunset. As we were leaving, we looked behind us and there was a rainbow over the Dome of the Rock and the wall. Pretty unforgettable, pretty spectacular. Vaguely religious. Today is my last day in Israel, and I'm excited to move on to my next adventure. But it was nice to stop for a moment. Sometimes you need a peaceful moment like that amid the political and social brouhaha.

one night in tel aviv

On Thursday afternoon, Max and I hopped on a train to go to Tel Aviv. This was my first major trip outside of the village, so I was pretty stoked. At the train station, they checked our bags and made us go through a metal detector. I still haven't gotten over the whole security situation in this country, and I don't think Max has either despite having been here for almost half a year.

We got to Tel Aviv and wandered around until we could check into our hostel, which was in the Florentine area. I could talk about our walk, which was lovely, but I won't bore you with the details. Basically, we got very lost but thanks to the Lonely Planet guidebook that my cousin got me for Christmas and some help from strangers, we found our way. What you really need to know is that we made it to the beach by sunset, and looking out onto the Mediterranean was really beautiful.

cats cats meow cats

When my boyfriend first got to this village in Israel, he had one major complaint. Cats. Cats everywhere. Cats near the trash, on the street, at the front door, in the courtyard, everywhere. He is also allergic to these adorable bundles of fluff and purr, so his allergies were really acting up when he first moved in. My friend and housemate Daniel, whose family lives in Israel, also warned me about the, "crazy anorexic cats in Israel."

I didn't really believe either of them. I thought my boyfriend was just being hypersensitive to the appearance of cats due to his cat allergy and Daniel was just making a point. But they're right. Cats are everywhere. Fat cats, skinny cats, kitty cats, black cats...It's like a bad Dr. Seuss book. They roam the streets in this village and stroll down the sidewalks of the nearby shopping center. They meow, and it sort of sound like a child crying. But they're also starved for attention, and food, so they're quick to cuddle. I love this because I'm a crazy cat lady in training, but my boyfriend isn't too keen on the whole situation. All I know is that I can totally dig it if Israel is a country of wandering cats.

I haven't yet had a chance to really leave Neve Shalom, so my perspective on being in Israel so far is sort of skewed. But we're off to Tel Aviv tonight and headed to the north the day after, and I'm really looking forward to getting out of the village. I'll probably see some more cats, and that's perfectly alright with me.

in which i get detained by EL AL airlines

My experience with EL AL on Monday was, in a word, awful. The flight itself was fine. Not to toot my own horn, but I’m sort of a pro when it comes to long flights. However, I felt far less than welcomed into Israel and that feeling is lasting much longer than I would like it to. A large part of that has to do with the entirely unnecessary and redundant security measures I had to endure because, from what I can infer, I am something of a threat to Israeli security according to EL AL. (Disclaimer: I really am not a threat to anyone’s security, honest.)

So I arrived at Terminal 4 of JFK at 3PM, three hours early for my 6PM flight to Tel Aviv. My mother wanted to make sure I got through security, as did my dad, so they accompanied me into the building. I walked up to the EL AL desk, to be met by a relatively stern looking woman standing behind a music stand. She did not greet me or tell me what to do. I started to fumble, which was probably my first mistake. It was only after a couple minutes of my patent awkwardness that she gave me a direction: “I need to see your passport.”

I showed her my passport, and the questioning began, only to continue for the next fifteen minutes. “Where are you going in Israel? How long will you be there for? Do you know anyone in the country?” I told her the truth: “I am going to visit my boyfriend for a week in a village called Neve Shalom.” But that response garnered a whole new set of questions including, “How long have you known your boyfriend? What is his name? What is he doing in Israel?” Then I mentioned that I would be going to India for the semester after my week in Israel, which made her ask how I was able to take the time off from my studies to visit my boyfriend.

She suspiciously eyed my baggage, too. As I've mentioned, I’m going to India for a semester after this week in Israel, and my program was very strict about the kind of baggage I was supposed to bring. The directives from SIT were simple: Pack light and pack in a backpack. Then the security woman then stunned me with her frankness. “We’re very concerned about bombs. That seems like a light bag for four months travel. Do you have any sharp items in your bag?” At this point, I was shaking, entirely convinced that I was not going to be allowed on the flight. I should point out that these fears were entirely irrational since I am not an international criminal and was not – and am not – harboring any dangerous substances. (Seriously. Check my pockets.) She finally was satisfied with my answers and escorted me to the ticketing booth and handed me a boarding pass. I thought I was free to get on my merry way, but she then took all of my bags – including my carry-ons – and told me to meet her at security in an hour.

I don’t know what I would have done if my parents hadn’t been with me. We sat for an hour drinking coffee at the Au Bon Pain downstairs, and we talked about what had just happened. They shook their heads, saying they had never seen such intense questioning and none of us could figure out why I was singled out.

STOP SOPA & PIPA

I'm taking a break from my regular blogging activities to bring you this public service announcement. Sign this petition. Call your representative. Do it now and save the Internet.

"learning to be lean"

I just read this article in The New York Times called "Learning to Be Lean." I recommend you read it; it's about emerging plans to decrease childhood obesity in the United States now that many insurance companies will have to pay for this kind of preventative care.

What strikes me in this article is how complicated the issue is. A person's weight is definitely influenced by diet and exercise, but those are not the only factors. Although these programs have been successful in some senses, they still fail in lots of others, and even with better diet and exercise, some of these patients gained the weight back.

Fighting chronic diseases like hypertension and diabetes - which are comorbidities of obesity - does require some kind of a lifestyle change. However, as this article points out, there is no magic bullet. There is never a magic bullet in public health, and education alone is not the answer to solving this complicated problem. And if there is this much of a challenge fighting obesity in the States, where many of the participants have the financial resources to choose healthier food options, then what are the implications for those in less developed countries? If there are limited resources for an intervention, should they be spent promoting these kinds of lifestyle change when there is evidence that the efficacy is limited?

P.S. Check out this awesome interactive chart from NYT. It shows who's in the top 1%, and it's not just bankers.

thoughts on public health in the dr

I got back from the Dominican Republic on Saturday evening, and I still haven't been able to fully process my week there. What has struck me about the experience is the lack of control that these community members have over their own living situation. Above is a photograph I took of the sugar refinery in Montellano, which is within walking distance from Pancho Mateo. For years, the sugar company controlled nearly everything in Pancho Mateo. It was the main source of employment for the community members. It built the barracks around which Pancho Mateo sprung up. It literally shaped the landscape of the community. The sugarcane refinery is still visible from the distance, and the otherwise fertile ground across the street from Pancho Mateo is blanketed by sugarcane.

Since the whole sugar industry was such an important force in this community's existence, it only makes sense that community members would hold onto the hope that this force would re-emerge. There are constantly rumors flying about that the sugarcane refinery will re-open, despite the absolute dearth of evidence to prove this. But talk is important in Pancho, and when those in power aren't communicating with the community, gossip can be just as authoritative as law.

The sugar company isn't the only mysterious outside force ruling over Pancho Mateo. A slew of small apartment buildings - which are shown on the right - sprung up in last February. They were apparently contracted by the government, but no one with any authority has come to talk to the community to tell them who will move in or when. We talked with one man from Pancho Mateo who even helped to build these apartments who doesn't know anything about them. Common knowledge says that these buildings were built in order to buy votes for the upcoming Presidential election, but there is no strong evidence of that either. These buildings are now standing on the side of the highway, completely empty, and no one in the community can know for sure why the government built them in the first place. From what we were told, there is no real desire to find the answers to these questions, but even if there was, the contact person in the government is unknown.

This lack of follow-up from outside organizations - be they private, governmental or non-profit - is clearly a major problem in Pancho Mateo, so I understand why an organization would not want to take on a project without knowing that it can follow the intervention through to the logical conclusion. This community has already been toyed with extensively, and there is no reason to continue that tradition. Although talking and qualitative research may not have as tangible an impact as some kind of infrastructural intervention, it still affects the participants and it still can raise hopes. In my opinion, I believe that it is equally negligent to go into the community and to ignore then what community members have to say.

If we want to help this community, we need to take the information we have gathered from the community and use that data in the residents' best interests. If we know the community's primary concerns, we should act on this. And if we do not listen and respond to the community's concerns, we are ultimately no better than the sugar company or the government in its negligence and thoughtlessness.

machetes, motos and caña

Today, I witnessed a fight in the streets of Pancho Mateo. One woman apparently slept with another woman’s hombre, and this conflict quickly escalated. When I poked my head out of the church where we were doing research, I spotted the larger of the two women wildly swinging around a machete. The skinner woman retaliated by literally stoning the woman and then left on a motorcycle. The two community members I was talking with, who were seventeen and eighteen, said that these kind of fights are common.

I played a game of pick-up soccer on the community’s basketball court. I kicked some butt with a pass that turned into an assist that turned into a goal, so I totally scored a goal by just two degrees of separation. Our goalie was a little boy, who was no more than seven or eight years old.

The children on the court were all eating sugar cane. It’s easy to get to since the sugar refinery in the nearby town of Montellano closed down five years ago. The cane is free and readily available if you just cross the highway and hack away with a machete. I still haven’t gotten used to the idea of elementary school-age children handling sharp and dangerous tools, but here they were.

These same community members offered us sugar cane. The texture is like cardboard. You bite off a hunk and chew, thereby sucking out the sugar inside, and spit out the stalk once you’re done with it. There are pieces of eaten cane all around the basketball courts because these children chew so much of this stuff. It’s also incredibly calorie-rich, if incredibly lacking in all nutritional value.

Then one of the research participants handed me the machete and the cane. Holding the sugar cane in my left hand and the machete in my right, I hacked away. One little boy ran away when I started to swing the blade and understandably so. But I didn’t chop my fingers off and everyone left with the same number of limbs that they started with, so I’m going to call this one a victory.

I met a man in the Dominican Air Force (and I know this because he was also dressed in full uniform) who offered to give me Spanish lessons and liked me because there is a WWE wrestler who shares my name. A nine-year old boy was fighting for my attention and definitively declared that I was his gringa girlfriend. I chatted with a twenty-nine year old with a seven year old daughter, absolutely amazing dreadlocks and massive biceps. I danced with a little girl, listening to music that someone was blasting from their cell phone.

So in a lot of ways, Pancho Mateo is nothing like anything I have ever experienced. The community is full of cultural norms that I find jarring. But those differences, although important, do not matter in a lot of ways. I was still able to connect with many people in many different ways even though I come from a different culture and speak a different language. Although I was in this community last year, I feel that my experience in Pancho this time around has been more intimate. I’m learning a lot, and my Spanish is going from nonexistent to simply terrible. Yes, this community needs a lot of help. But ultimately, it a community of people living and working and playing together, and that sense of togetherness and that welcoming nature is invaluable and deserves to be recognized.

first reflections from the dr

I’m alive, and I’m well. Well, sort of well. My wisdom teeth are fine, but the stitches are starting to come out of my gums. (It’s pretty attractive.) It’s like I have two mosquito bites in the inside of my mouth. I’m also coming down with a head cold, probably due to a combination of the pollution and the stress of traveling and not sleeping in my own bed and the chain smokers in the hotel that we’re staying at. Breathing is becoming way more of a challenge than it should be.

But those, when all things are said and done, are minor complaints. As I’ve mentioned numerous times before, I’m here with Health Horizons International (HHI). This is my second trip to the DR, and I’m working in the same community that I worked in last year called Pancho Mateo. Last January, our group from Tufts conducted a comprehensive health survey and found that the major public health issues identified by the community were related to sanitation and access to uncontaminated water. It’s been amazing to go back to Pancho and see the same buildings and the same people. What’s even better is being welcomed into the community once again.

One familiar face belongs to a community health worker for HHI, and our group really connected with him last year. He’s our age (and he’s so totally my Facebook friend). When we walked into Pancho for the first time on Sunday, he was so excited to talk about the project that he and his buddies started working on in November. They formed a working group to address those same community-identified needs that we uncovered in January, most specifically in regards with water. They have started drafting letters to the government and to private contractors in order to install the proper plumbing and to fix water pressure. The ultimate goal is to ensure that everyone in their community can easily access and use clean, safe water.

some (necessary) wardrobe changes

Tomorrow, I'm off to the Dominican Republic with HHI. Although I couldn't be more excited to get the show on the road, packing is a complete nightmare. My room looks like eight tornadoes and two hurricanes and maybe a rabid raccoon worked their way through it. In short, it's a disaster zone. I only have a small backpack in which to haul all of my belongings, so I have to make sure what I pack really counts. But I have a lot of t-shirts; I've been proudly cultivating this collection since the seventh grade, and I'm a pack rat who doesn't let go of things easily. It's been a challenge to figure out which shirts will make the cut, but some edits have been easier to make in my wardrobe than others. Take this shirt --

This one screams, "Come at me, bro! I'm an American!" Great for the 4th of July. Not so great for engendering goodwill in foreign lands.

After the break are some more t-shirts that - although hilarious and ironic and appropriate here in the U.S. - are entirely inappropriate once taken out of the American context.

dreaming about india

Found this .gif on Tumblr today and I thought it was incredibly appropriate. Although I'm in the middle of packing for my trip to the Dominican Republic, I find myself thinking about India almost non-stop. I have so many things to do before my semester abroad including:

• Get a student visa, which is largely dependent on when my program sends me the materials I need and when I can get my booty down to the Indian consulate.
• Finish the medical paperwork, including my WHO vaccination card.
• Pack (all over again).
• Learn the Hindi alphabet, also called Devanagari script.
• Read one (if not two) books, and write a 3-page paper on it. According to my Kindle, I'm about 47% through In Spite of the Gods.
• Figure out how to use that Flip camera that Tufts is letting me borrow.
• Say good-bye to all of my friends, my family and my puppy.

But I need to focus on my trip to the DR for the time being, hard as it is to focus right now with so many dates and to-do lists running around my mind. I'll figure it out eventually, and hopefully I'll be able to figure it out before I get on another plane.

tufts hhi

As I've mentioned before, I'm going to the Dominican Republic with Health Horizons International. We leave on Saturday, and I'm getting so excited to get my international travel started. As part of our group's project, we've decided to start our own blog: Tufts Health Horizons International. I'll be writing for it, as will the rest of the members of the group. If you want to keep tabs on the specifics of our public health project while we're down there, please visit that page. I'll be blogging here about my own personal experience.

It's surreal that this trip is so soon. I feel like I've been planning this week since I left the country last year. I'm excited to return to the community that I visited last year, and I cannot wait to learn about a new community this year.

But I still need to pack...

the month ahead

Here's what's coming down the pipe.

Today I went to my uncle's house in New Jersey to eat Korean food and pay my respects to the ancestors. Tomorrow, I'm getting my wisdom teeth removed. The aftermath of this will involve lots of Netflix and painkillers. I will also be packing for my week-long trip to the Dominican Republic through that drug-induced haze. I leave on Saturday, January 7 and then I'll be doing our public health project.

I get back from the Caribbean, and it's my little brother's birthday. Then I have to get my visa for India (which will probably involve camping out at the Indian consulate in New York City) and pack for the next three and a half months and say good-bye to people. On Monday, January 23, I head out into the big, bad world and go to Israel. Then I'm chilling with the boyfriend for a week. I fly out of Tel Aviv on the 23rd, to be followed by a ten-hour layover in Milan, Italy. Another long plane ride and I'll finally be in New Delhi.

And it's all coming so soon! I don't know exactly what's going to happen or what to expect, but I do know I'm going to be racking up a lot of airline miles over the next month.

Let the countdown officially begin!