tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30521245436310692492024-03-14T03:13:11.536+00:00Books and Boarding PassesFollowing our hero through life, travels and development careers. And books.Julia Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10332148931608039797noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3052124543631069249.post-21177481714010395192009-01-10T22:00:00.000+00:002009-01-10T22:57:22.063+00:00Half of a Yellow Sun<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SWkd3w4ahDI/AAAAAAAAADU/8GoWjDFxBZ8/s1600-h/Paris+032.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289792081174889522" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SWkd3w4ahDI/AAAAAAAAADU/8GoWjDFxBZ8/s320/Paris+032.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I read Half <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">of </span>a Yellow Sun on the return trip from Paris. Though my aunt ribbed me about only reading depressing books (its not far from the truth), I really, really enjoyed it. </div><div> </div><div>While staying far away from <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">sentimentality</span>, it tells the story of the Nigeria - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Biafra</span> war. Of course, I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">don't</span> think anything happy has ever been written about that war, so there is plenty of suffering to go around. But instead of slogging through the misery, the author takes us along with several main characters - a poor houseboy, a pair of twin sisters from a wealthy Nigerian household and their partners, a Nigerian <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">professor</span> and a British expat. the novel begins in the relative comfort of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">pre</span> war years, and jumps back and forth to the midst of the war. None of the horror is skipped - the massacres, the rape, the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">disappearances</span>, the starvation is all there but the author manages to keep the characters human, blurring the line between victim and perpetrator just enough to make it <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">believable</span>. </div><div> </div><div>Throughout the book, there are snippets from a book being written by one of the characters, which are largely to fill in the history of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Biafran</span> war for people that may not know anything about it. And that idea alone is chilling - how quickly a small country, defeated in a single war, can <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">disappear</span> into obscurity along with all its stories and suffering. </div><div> </div><div>PS - as if to make this piont clearer, the blogger spellcheck doesnt even have the world Biafra in its dictionary! </div>Julia Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10332148931608039797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3052124543631069249.post-26502257756730377442009-01-10T21:39:00.000+00:002009-01-10T21:52:29.307+00:00Paris<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SWkWYGIp5bI/AAAAAAAAADM/lOC2cBpK1G8/s1600-h/Paris+030.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289783840542942642" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SWkWYGIp5bI/AAAAAAAAADM/lOC2cBpK1G8/s320/Paris+030.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>OK, well truth be told I have been to Paris before, circa age 7. This, however, was my first time as a grown up and it was lovely. </div><div></div><div>I got to Paris in possibly the world's most ghetto way - by bus. I thought I would be really clever and book the 9 hour ride at night, so could sleep on the bus and arrive nice and chipper at the other end. However, not only was the bus crowded and uncomfortable, but after sitting an additional 3 (!!) hours in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">traffic</span>, they wake everyone up on the ferry because you cant stay in the bus. So the ride took 12 hours <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">altogether</span>, and I was anything but chipper. </div><div></div><div>Though the trip was a short one to see an aunt, I had a great time. Not only was it great to meet her for the first time as an adult, but I really appreciated the finer things about Paris - skipping the cathedrals and Louvre for the smaller museums, the lovely neighborhoods and the markets. The markets were one of my favorite parts - I'd love to be able to shop outside for fresh food every morning like she does. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Tescos</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Sainsbury's</span> seem so dull since. </div><div></div><div>Though I have been studying French in London, I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">didn't</span> use it at all this trip, though I used it a bit (mostly <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">unsuccessfully</span>) in Morocco. It was great motivation though, and I can't wait to try it out next trip!</div>Julia Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10332148931608039797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3052124543631069249.post-34479160446964789222009-01-10T17:00:00.000+00:002009-01-10T21:52:58.769+00:00Midnight's Children and The Bookseller of Kabul<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SWjUUNdkSLI/AAAAAAAAAC0/XDilJ6CL_BA/s1600-h/Morocco+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289711206022793394" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SWjUUNdkSLI/AAAAAAAAAC0/XDilJ6CL_BA/s320/Morocco+001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I read two books while in Morocco - Midnights Children by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Salman</span> Rushdie and The Bookseller of Kabul by <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Asne</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Seierstad</span>. Though I didn't realize it when I picked them, these books are both very critical of how Islam is practiced in their respective countries. </div><br /><br /><div>Midnights <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Children</span> was recently awarded "best of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">bookers</span>", so I was excited to read it and borrowed it from a friend at work. I've read a few modern novels of India (such as the God of Small things and Q & A), and you can tell how much they owe to Rushdie's non-linear storytelling and reluctance to reveal the books secrets. </div><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>This book is not only epic in scale, it blurs the line between fact and science fiction with gusto. I enjoyed the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">narration</span>, as the story switches back and forth between a first person-narrative and another <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">narrative</span> in which the author tells his story to a companion as he writes it. </div><br /><br /><div>Also borrowed from a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">colleague</span>, I read the Bookseller of Kabul (sorry for the lack of picture! Here, enjoy this pretty picture of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">leatherworks</span> in Fez and the sea in Essouera). This is the story of an Afghan family surviving in Kabul <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">aro</span><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SWjdQ1RbJOI/AAAAAAAAAC8/CKDatbaqulQ/s1600-h/Morocco+275.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289721043594454242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SWjdQ1RbJOI/AAAAAAAAAC8/CKDatbaqulQ/s320/Morocco+275.jpg" border="0" /></a><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">und</span> the time of the fall of the Taliban. Though the author is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">sympathetic</span> to her family of hosts, she does not mask the injustice of the lives of women in Kabul - women who cannot travel, work, or live alone, women who are bought and sold for marriage and cannot go out of doors without full <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Burkahs</span>. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I read this book near the end of my trip, and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Im</span> glad I had just spent my time in a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">relatively</span> liberal Muslim country, where modesty is more about respect than shame, and where women can work and travel without <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">chaperones</span>. Morocco has many women who cover themselves, but many more that wear relatively modest western clothes. Women and girls work, though most men I spoke to looked forward to making enough money so that their wives could stay home. Unlike Afghanistan, Morocco loves its daughters - one man I met spoke about how he and his wife had adopted a girl once their sons were grown, and how much more fun it was to raise a girl. Its always good to be reminded that it is culture, not always <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">religion</span>, that leads to oppression of <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SWjglhroiXI/AAAAAAAAADE/QC2o3nUIrKc/s1600-h/Morocco+393.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289724697647810930" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SWjglhroiXI/AAAAAAAAADE/QC2o3nUIrKc/s320/Morocco+393.jpg" border="0" /></a>women. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>In <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Meknez</span>, I got out of a taxi outside the bus station and realized that the kid I had shared the cab with had been playing with the snaps and opened my rucksack, so that everything fell out on the street when I pulled it on. The taxi drove away, and I was mortified to see that my two borrowed books were all wet from the rain. Within moments, a passing woman had stopped to help me pick them up, and when I came inside, the boys in the coffee shop took the books and put them on top of the coffee maker to dry. That is exactly what Islam is about. </div>Julia Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10332148931608039797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3052124543631069249.post-57241163400224367142009-01-10T16:28:00.000+00:002009-01-10T22:58:07.807+00:00Morocco<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289703497225102146" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SWjNTf8-Y0I/AAAAAAAAACk/-UpTt4D82dc/s320/Morocco+105.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SWjM45p3cAI/AAAAAAAAACc/Enr785O7gRc/s1600-h/Morocco+001.jpg"></a>I can say with hardly any doubt that the trip I took last month to Morocco was the best trip I've taken, ever. It was a holiday of just about 10 days, and took me from the red-walled bustle of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Marrakesh</span> to the serenity of the roman ruins near <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Meknez</span> to the chaos of Fez, then down <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">along</span> the cost to the friendly, laid back feel of El <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Jadida</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Essouera</span>.<br /><br /><br /><div>If I could give advice to everyone going to Morocco it would be to PLEASE go alone, smile, keep your wits about you but let down your guard and talk to people. Take public transport, no matter how late or grubby. Recognize that for every person trying to take advantage of your tourist cash there is another just trying to be friendly. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Im</span> not even sure were to start. Long train or bus rides were always accompanied by friendly chats with the person in the next seat. On four or five different occasions random people bought me tea, breakfast or lunch, or took me walking through their towns. I was there for the off-season, so the weather was cold, but the people were more than warm enough to make up for it.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I was the only girl traveling alone that I met, which is a pity since it is so safe for girls. Though this is true in the majority of the Arab world, the thing <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">that's</span> special about Morocco is their continued <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">tolerance</span> and affection for Jews. While Jewish museums and quarters in Europe are testaments to the dead, there is still a vibrant community living in Fez and C<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SWjROSG8OdI/AAAAAAAAACs/ZMxIDosI8EI/s1600-h/Morocco+345.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289707805655972306" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SWjROSG8OdI/AAAAAAAAACs/ZMxIDosI8EI/s320/Morocco+345.jpg" border="0" /></a><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">asablanca</span>. The Jewish community in Morocco has been present since <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">pre</span>-Islamic times, and is still well respected among Moroccans.<br /></div><br /><div>I arrived just before the holiday everyone <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">referred</span> to as the "sheep <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">festival</span>", <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">during</span> which every family in Morocco comes together to slaughter a sheep in memory of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Abraham's</span> sacrifice in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Genesis</span>. Because many Moroccans no longer keep sheep of their own, there was a huge amount of bustle and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">creativity</span> on bringing sheep home - check out this beautiful example of the worst way to transport a live sheep! I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">luckily</span> had my tickets home for the day before the festival itself began, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">I'm</span> not sure I could have stomached the actual slaughter. In some ways it felt like the days before Thanksgiving in the US or Christmas in the UK, with everyone rushing home to spend time with their families.</div><div></div><div>This was an absolutely amazing trip. Easyjet flies there, so noone has an excuse not to go!</div></div>Julia Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10332148931608039797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3052124543631069249.post-25638158944551074222009-01-10T16:27:00.000+00:002009-01-10T16:28:31.207+00:00A blog backlogYes, yes, I know. I have been a bad blogger.<br /><br />Updates on my reading and travels above.Julia Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10332148931608039797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3052124543631069249.post-40346083132426980942008-09-17T20:20:00.000+01:002009-01-10T21:53:52.892+00:00The Yiddish Policemens Union<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SNFYnpbuRGI/AAAAAAAAAB0/FnF13S7aMhI/s1600-h/Cambodia+152.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247072479023613026" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SNFYnpbuRGI/AAAAAAAAAB0/FnF13S7aMhI/s320/Cambodia+152.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>Welcome to the first book review of the blog! </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I had heard about this book several times over the last year, and I picked it up for the 13+ hours in the air on the way to Cambodia. I ended up sleeping for most of the flight, so the book lasted for a few jet-lagged nights and unacompanied meals. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Granted, its a bit lighter than my usual reading material, but I enjoyed it. Its a bizzare but increadibly confident book - essentialy its a murder mistery. Simple enough, right? But no, this story takes place in a completely theoretical world, where WWII ended early, the Zionists lost the war of independence against the Arab states and the Jews of Europe were given a small strip of land in Alaska as a homeland, but only for a few decades. All this is very nice, but Chabon doesnt lay this out for you in the begning, and instead lets you pick it up as you go along.<br /><br />Though the mystery itself is good reading, the interesting thing for me was comparing this theoretical land of the Jews to the real one that I lived in for so long. The most obvious difference is that after the crushing of Zionism, the jews speak Yiddish and have a purely religeous, not nationalist, calling for the promised land. The other important bit is that the Jews in Alaska are exclusively the european variety - none of the Morocan, Persian, Iraqi, Egyptian and Indian jews that make up the diversity of today's Israel. </div>Julia Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10332148931608039797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3052124543631069249.post-77804215576385931702008-09-11T19:38:00.001+01:002009-01-10T21:57:06.296+00:00Back home...<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SMltx37Oi7I/AAAAAAAAABU/x6_tICZoFNk/s1600-h/Cambodia+278.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SMlnJQ-rOEI/AAAAAAAAABM/RAy5SLwLyTw/s1600-h/Cambodia+211.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244836649923983426" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SMlnJQ-rOEI/AAAAAAAAABM/RAy5SLwLyTw/s320/Cambodia+211.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div>So I returned from Cambodia on Sunday, but the job <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">isnt</span> done yet. There is lots of work to be done on our budget and proposal - millions of dollars going back and forth and lots of work to create a strategy. Because the scope of this project is so huge, it really includes a lot of thought into how we can best use these resources to help <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Cambodians</span>. That means working out what programs work best, how often they need to be extended and by how much. It also means figuring out where our organization and work fit among other organizations and bodies working in Cambodia - the public sector, the private sector, social marketing organizations, social franchising initiatives and private clinics and pharmacies. Like many things in the developing world, quantification is a bit of an oversimplification, as most private doctors are simply public sector doctors enhancing their regular income.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SMluFXE-TgI/AAAAAAAAABc/ib9vX7Wy7Dk/s1600-h/Cambodia+278.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244844279422930434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SMluFXE-TgI/AAAAAAAAABc/ib9vX7Wy7Dk/s320/Cambodia+278.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><br /><div>In true developing world form, there are a never ending supply of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">anomalies</span> and contradictions. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Siem</span> Reap, the tourist-friendly province with the vast temples, and deluxe hotels, is also the poorest province in an all around poor country. Everywhere, people ride little motorbikes ("<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">moto</span>") and motorbike-drawn rickshaws ("<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">tuk</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">tuk</span>"), <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">usually</span> in a state of perpetual chaos. Hardly anyone wears helmets, though you'll see people wearing masks to protect their lungs from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">polution</span>!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>One thing that has taken me aback is the closeness of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Khemer</span> Rouge genocide. As a Jew, Ive always heard stories by or about elderly people being the only members of their families to escape Europe alive. The only one from a family of five, eight, ten, or the only one from a street, a neighborhood, a ghetto. Along with their stories of loss there are glimmers of ingenuity and survival. In Cambodia, these stories are told by people in their 40s. Many westerners wonder how Cambodians can recover when justice in the western sense has so long been delayed - tribunals are only recently underway, after the death of the genocidal leader Pol Pot. Its not hard to see why the tribunals would be so difficult here - unlike other <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">massacres</span>, here the perpetrators and victims look the same, live in the same towns and a few short decades later work in the same offices and send their children to the same schools. In purely technical terms, its not even a genocide by <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">definition</span>, as people were killed based on their class, not on the terms of their race, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">religion</span> or language. </div><br /><div></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SMlzBzaTlFI/AAAAAAAAABs/0BYxPpKfOfw/s1600-h/Cambodia+265.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244849715867259986" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SMlzBzaTlFI/AAAAAAAAABs/0BYxPpKfOfw/s320/Cambodia+265.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Cambodia is one of those places that attracts long-term expats, and it was great to hear from them about the improvements that they have seen in recent years. When my boss moved there 6 years ago, there was only one paved road, no <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">ATMs</span> and no postal service. Now there is still <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">isnt</span> a reliable postal service or constant electricity, but there are many paved roads, international banks, a growing middle class and education <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">available</span> for most (though not all) of the younger population. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">NGOs</span> (both native and imported) are everywhere, and Cambodians seem dedicated to improving themselves. Its <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">inspiring</span> to see, and I hope that our project can contribute somewhat to helping these people take control of their lives. </div>Julia Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10332148931608039797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3052124543631069249.post-44653123044609760782008-09-03T14:32:00.000+01:002009-01-10T22:58:26.312+00:00On the road!<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SMllSg26IMI/AAAAAAAAABE/ieGSpWjVzqs/s1600-h/Cambodia+122.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244834609781940418" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SMllSg26IMI/AAAAAAAAABE/ieGSpWjVzqs/s320/Cambodia+122.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>Its been hard to update now that I am on the road - expect lots of retroactive postings! Im in Phnom Phen at the moment, but let me give you some basic background and reflection.<br /><br />I came to Cambodia before a weekend so that I could spend time in Siem Reap, in the north, before starting work. I have seen many beautiful man-made places - Jerusalem, Petra, the Coliseum and many cathedrals, but I have never seen anything like the Ankor Temples. I really only had one full day to soak them up, but I was completely overwhelmed by their artistry. Huge temples, somehow majestic but not vain. In varying states of disrepair, but always dignified. Though it is heavily touristed, even in the most crowded temples it is possible to take a moment for solitude.<br /><br />After seeing so many churches in my life, I was impressed by the modesty of the Buddhist shrines - lovingly draped in orange cloth, with incense and gifts offered by passersby. Many of the temples are pre-Buddhist, and are heavily decorated with traditional Khemer designs. The shrines are usually tucked away in far corners and up long, steep flights of stairs.<br /><br />My favorite of the temples was the least restored - the trees, moss and animals re-ingesting the fallen stones made it all the more accessible and eerie. The contrast between the magnificent, serine temples and the world outside is harrowing - as soon as you leave the gates you are mobbed by hordes of people, usually children, trying to sell you souvenirs. They begin by trying to sell you things that they think you want (bracelets, flutes, etc), then resort to trying to guilt a purchase. I bought a bottle of water from one girl only to be harshly chastised by another for not buying from her as well. Some of the adults were very polite and kind, and I was happy to buy a few small things from them. I wonder about the future for all the children running up to me shouting "one dolla, one dolla". I only hope one day their parents will be able to send them to school instead of relying on them for income. I also know that selling trinkets to tourists, though harsh and limiting, is far better than being sucked into the horrifying pedophilia trade that is rife in much of this country.<br /><br />After Seim Reap, I took the bus to the Cambodian capital, Phnom Phen. Its a city where you can feel the third worldliness in every breath - terrifying drivers, most of them on overburdened motorbikes, constant hassling and begging, spotty electricity, cheep clothes (some stolen from the local GAP factory, some faked), fake DVDs, bizarre food, over-the-counter access to loads of drugs, tragic sex workers, shows of wealth by the lucky few and NGOs of every kind in every direction. It's fascinating, distracting and dramatic.<br /><br />I'm here to help our country office write a budget (and proposal) for a possibly massive grant. The results could be amazing and do so much for Cambodia. The country office is under lots of stress - recent elections have thrown our vital relationship with the government into question and various other problems have sprouted up along with it. As an organization that runs clinics, we really do have a huge responsibility to those we serve. I visited two of the clinics yesterday - though simple, they were imma<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SMlyfYS3jHI/AAAAAAAAABk/uDB9X_denBE/s1600-h/Cambodia+155.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244849124472753266" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SMlyfYS3jHI/AAAAAAAAABk/uDB9X_denBE/s320/Cambodia+155.jpg" border="0" /></a>culately clean and cheerfully staffed.<br /><br />The other great exposure of this trip was the chance to peak into a hardcore NGO worker community. My current boss lived here for 5 years as part of her previous job, so she had friends to visit and experience living here. Among the whole community there is a strange mix of optimism and despair – its hard to believe that things will get better when everything is so difficult and subject to so many setbacks. Cambodia is rather monolithic ethnically, and even after years here westerners rarely have Khemer friends or speak more than a few sentences in the language. It's an inspiring but realistic group of people – and one that I can see becoming a part of as my life progresses.<br /><br />Much more, including the other half of this blog, the books, on its way in the coming days!</div>Julia Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10332148931608039797noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3052124543631069249.post-77157020275107671122008-08-25T11:23:00.000+01:002008-08-25T11:24:21.628+01:00Dissertation StressSo much work to do... I feel like my soul has been sucked out through my keyboard.Julia Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10332148931608039797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3052124543631069249.post-41956756219866844352008-08-22T23:09:00.000+01:002008-08-22T23:23:32.482+01:00Crunch time!An update is long overdue. I write this as I finish week two at my new job. And I am still completely infatuated by it.<br /><br />I really don't think I could have a better job. The people I work with are lovely. The office is cheerful an dedicated. The British flavour is friendly, with drinks in the pub with the bosses being the norm. The cause is brilliant. And best of all, they pay for me to hop on airplanes and go to interesting places. I'm going on my first trip on Thursday, when they put me on a plane to Cambodia (!!!!). Because the people I work with are travel addicts like me, tacking on days at the beginning and end is encouraged, and I will be able to take advantage of the trip to go to the ruins at Angkor Wat near <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Siem</span> Reap, then travel down to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Phnom</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Pheh</span> to work with one of our country programs to build up a budget and proposal for a massive expansion. Its an incredibly exciting project, and I cant wait to be part of such a huge scale up that will help so many people.<br /><br />The last weeks have been incredibly stressful. Not only am I lagging on my dissertation, my visa status was up in the air because of a mistake made by the consulate in Tel <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Aviv</span>. If that had fallen through my life would basically have fallen apart - I would have had to leave the best job I could possibly have, be stuck paying for my apartment in London while trying to work things out from abroad... so thank god it came through!<br /><br />Now the big push is on the dissertation. Luckily my boss is very understanding and told me to take time off if I needed it, so I'm taking Tuesday for hardcore studying. Turning it in on Wednesday or Thursday, then getting on a plane Thursday night for Asia... So exciting!<br /><br />At the same time that <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">I'm</span> excited for being finished with school work and starting at a real job, I am sad that this part of my life is coming to an end. One of my best friends (someone I knew before <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">London</span>, but who I became close with here) is leaving, which means that my copious levels of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">alcohol</span> consumption will no longer be entirely <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">socially</span> acceptable. Ah yes and of course I'll miss him as well, not just as a drinking buddy.<br /><br />Many people I know here are leaving or have already left, and I am sad that the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">LSE</span> section of my life is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">dissipating</span> and all the inspiration and learning Ive gotten this year will go with it. I hope that by staying in sector I can continue to surround myself with great, inspiring people with great dreams for the world, but as much as I have loved the environment I've also loved the individuals. And I will certainly miss them as they go.<br /><br />OK Jules, back to work!Julia Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10332148931608039797noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3052124543631069249.post-1273228628451348722008-08-19T20:45:00.000+01:002008-08-19T20:46:09.209+01:00Awww....<a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2008/aug/19/abandoned.whale.sydney">http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2008/aug/19/abandoned.whale.sydney</a><br /><br />I want to adopt him and keep him in the bathtub.<br /><br />Real post comming soon...Julia Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10332148931608039797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3052124543631069249.post-20531948384403149812008-08-09T13:39:00.001+01:002008-08-09T14:40:46.875+01:00Procrastination and excitement<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SJ2Rdns__oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pRMVdL3ypSY/s1600-h/Camera+pictures+127.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232498280134344322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SJ2Rdns__oI/AAAAAAAAAAY/pRMVdL3ypSY/s320/Camera+pictures+127.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SJ2Rd1GVahI/AAAAAAAAAAg/a_j2fIL0Tzg/s1600-h/Camera+pictures+169.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232498283730266642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SxgjhACc8pQ/SJ2Rd1GVahI/AAAAAAAAAAg/a_j2fIL0Tzg/s320/Camera+pictures+169.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Dissertations are funny things. Somehow they suck the life out of both the writer and the topic, while simultaioniously making time between the present and the deadline fly by. Among the ways Ive found to avoid writing:<br /><br />Taking a lovely trip to the Lakes District in the north of England (see see photos above)<br /><br />Spending time laughing at this lovely blog: <a href="http://lovelylisting.blogspot.com/">http://lovelylisting.blogspot.com/</a>, which has provided me with enough laughs to make Mr. Sheildmaiden think I had gone off the deep end completely. I was sure that any picture from my hometown in New Jersey would do, so I looked up listings in Union City. Sure enough the first place with interior photos fit the bill, and I am honored to be name dropped in the blog! Hurray! Another few hours killed in their tracks.<br /><br />Making a lovely dinner for friends at my place, of which I do not have photos but have witnesses! If nothing else, I should have gotten a most improved award. A few weeks ago I couldn't make anything except pasta and eggplant moussaka. Now I have variety. Another day down.<br /><br />Sitting around being excited and nervous for my new job. I really am frothing at the bit to get started. I got a lovely email from my new boss, again welcoming me to the team and asking if she could take me out to lunch on my first day. Very sweet, and really thoughtful. I saw the same position that I've been accepted for advertised in Melbourne, and as the weather in London is turning more dreary, I keep thinking about how nice it would be to jet off to a life down under... Not this year I guess, but its good to know that they need those skills elsewhere as well. Maybe in a few years....<br /><br />OK so enough yammering, back to work. If any of you happen to have experience working with PRTs in Iraq and Afghanistan, I would love to get the chance to talk to you for my dissertation.<br /><br />Cheers!Julia Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10332148931608039797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3052124543631069249.post-41614884576564190062008-07-25T12:46:00.000+01:002008-07-25T13:07:21.425+01:00Two weeks notice highAs those of you who have, well, had any contact with me in the last few weeks know, I have a new job starting in August. This is lucky because I had thrown my heart and soul into getting said job, and I can no longer function productively in my old job because of the mind numbing boredom. It's true.<br /><br />So enter comically high expectations, stage left. I can sit around fantasising about how wonderful and perfect life will be once this job starts on August 11th, and trust me, I do. I ponder the perfectness of its organizational approach and the urgency of its cause. I stare at my bank account and dream of what it will look like post-paycheck. I stare at the "goodge street" sign and think of the convenience of my new commute. I look at a map or at friends holiday photos and think of how I will soon be paid to jet off. I look at my new bosses business card and imagine my name emblazoned there in place of hers, with only a slightly less impressive job title.<br /><br />So I'm setting myself up for disappointment. Breathe, Julia, Breathe...Julia Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10332148931608039797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3052124543631069249.post-48227341935485775622008-07-25T12:28:00.000+01:002008-07-25T12:40:31.518+01:00Start hereAs the MSc phase of my life draws to a close, I find myself with time to reflect and an unquenchable need to distract myself from writing a dissertation. To accomplish both of these, as well as keep up with my increasingly scattered friends, I am creating a blog.<br /><br />Hopefully, this blog will allow you to follow (with great interest, I'm sure) my first year of non-student life in London. You'll hear about my ups and downs of life in my new home of North London, and my first year working full time in development.<br /><br />I hope that this will be both an interesting way to keep up with friends and a resource for anyone looking to follow a similar career path. I'll be posting details of my travels (hopefully!) and reflections on life based in one of the greatest cities in the world. I look forward to getting feedback from everyone, and hopefully some dialogue can emerge from this exercise.<br />So welcome aboard! Enjoy the ride.Julia Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10332148931608039797noreply@blogger.com0