Talking about a Churchillian way of life

I was lucky enough to spend 7 weeks in the study centre at Churchill. Its a fair bit outside the metropolis of Churchill itself which is a point of concern for many people. But for me that just outlined and emphasised the uniqueness of the place. It could drive you crazy. It could make people insane. And you certainly have to be prepared to occupy yourself...

So. We drew on the menu board. We talked to each other on Facebook in spite of the fact that we were sitting 2 feet away from each other. We put the menu up in a different language every meal time. We went into town to eat and visit with Heather, the volunteer co-ordinator. We cooked and baked and ate and drank Kokanee. We played pool and darts (Badly. Oh so badly..) And when festivities like Thanksgiving and Halloween came around we threw ourselves into making them special and memorable.

And special they were. Much fun was had. But its not just the occasions that made my time at the CNSC so great. It was the people. Holly and Steve and Inge, my fantastic fellow volunteers with whom I groaned about the dishwashing levels and who kept me grounded and positive. We formed a system that meant that no one was ever off duty- everyone just pitched in and helped and then we all got to go and play. And the others who lived there- Avril, who has a steadfastness that I've never encountered before in someone at age 21. Sara, certainly one of my favourite people at the study centre, with her quirkiness and her wisdom. Kat, who just made us laugh and has a sweetness and specialness all of her own. Adam, who is the happiest and most upbeat person I ever met. Carly akd Basler aka Baz, who has a big laugh and a bigger heart. Rob and Audrey, the wonderful cooks and two special people who make the kitchen the best place to work. These were the people with whom I lived and worked and played, although there were many awesome others who came and went during the day (Mike, Kim, LeAnn,Cliff, Christina and Devon to mention only a few). It was because of these people that I found camaraderie and friendship and fun. They became like my family and I am proud to count them among my friends, even if only for a brief time.

And it was them who made it so hard to leave....

And so to bed.....

Eh?? Whats with that title? Its 1pm, I ain't going to bed. Although I was up all night having the most fun that you can have on your own. I was WRITING people- get yer minds oot the gutter!

So. Churchill. I took the world's longest train ride from Winnipeg to Churchill- 48 hours. Actually I enjoyed it. There were fun people on the train including my train BFF Megan. Who was funny and chatty AND had a guitar. What more could you possibly need! There were also 45 cub scouts who instead of making the journey hell, made it fun and pleasant and it flew by.

So we arrived in Churchill a mere 3 hours late and were met by Mike. At first I had no idea who he was and assumed that he was just some worker like the rest of us. It wasn't till later that I discovered that he is the Executive Director. Fortunately I displayed my usual tact diplomacy and appropriateness at all times and so therefore had no need to be embarassed..ahem...

The Study Centre is about 30 minutes drive from the town centre and Mike was kind enough to point out landmarks as we went along. In this way if we ever found ourselves lost in the middle of nowhere, we could take comfort in the fact that the Golf Balls were right over there while the polar bear was chewing on our ankle.

On arrival at the CNSC we were introduced to Avril, program co-ordinator. Uh oh, I thought, she seems a little stern! First impressions are notoriously wrong and this was no exception. Avril possibly the least stern person I ever met in my life, and probably one of my favourite people at the Centre. I was also introduced to fellow volunteer Holly, and to one of the cooks, Audrey.

Work for me did not begin until the next day when I was trained (wonderfully!) by Avril. Most of the work appeared to involve washing dishes and some basic kitchen work so I wasn't too perplexed and got stuck right in. It was fairly quiet with just the scouts in residence so not too much rushing around.

I'm going to be painfully honest at this point and state right off the bat that the first 3 weeks at the CNSC was a little difficult for me. This had nothing to do with the lack of work, with being so isolated or any of the other problems that you might expect. As someone who has volunteered for a long time, I'm used to loving or hating my compatriots almost immediately. In this, the CNSC was different. At first it just felt...well, bland. I didn't feel that loud CLICK with the other volunteers that I was used to. They were perfectly nice and I liked them, I just felt that something was missing. In retrospect this seems almost funny, given the way I feel about them now. But at the time it worried me so much I even spoke to Avril about it to gain some perspective on the situation.

Anyway. Time went on. Dishes were washed. Cupcakes were baked. Veggies were peeled and chopped. But the best part of the study centre life is not necessarily the work, although I enjoyed it. It was the stuff that went on after work. The kitchen, as is the case in so many places, was the hub of activity. It was the place to hang out after work was over. It was the place to exchange photos, movies and music. It was the place to drink a few beers and shoot the shit. It was the place to get to know the people that you were living and working with and I will mention them in a later entry. The kitchen was the place that I finally felt that loud click with the others, it was the place that I spent most of my time working or playing. It was the place where the best music was played and all the drama was acted out. It was simply the place to be.....

Oh Canada!

Ya know, immigration people get a bad press. And trust me I can understand why. The most vivid immigration experience that I can recall is when I was returning to NYC from Niagara Falls. The immigration woman at the land border was not going to allow me to return since I had 3 Egyptian visas in my passport! I expected her at any moment to whip out the latex and give me a full body search....

So picture the scene. I'm arriving in Canada after striving to get there for 2 days. I have researched and taken advice and all the conventional wisdon tells me that I have no need for a visa as a UK citizen for at least 6 months. But I'm still nervous. This seems to good to be true. So I'm sweaty and a little shaky and look just as suspicious as the drug dealer next to me in line....

Called forward and the man takes my passport. He asks me why I'm in Canada, and how long I intend to stay. I answer to the best of my ability- and thats it!! He waves me through. With- get this!- a smile and a "Have a great stay!' Totally unbelievable.

The best part about arriving in Edmonton is that Carlee was there to meet me (you remember her- the 6 foot blonde that I worked with in Vietnam!) After so much travelling on your own its nice to actually be met at the airport occasionally. And its Carlee, one of my favourite folks!

So we hug and we laugh and we go to my hostel and then go for a drink and then talk and talk and talk. But its 2am and I'm dying on my feet so we agree to meet again tomorrow.
Edmonton is not the most memorable place I've ever been. The river valley is quite pretty and there's a good busy vibe about the place- not to mention a great YMCA. But thats it. Of course my view may be affected by the fact that once again I had a return of the dreaded LURGY-will this ever leave me alone??- and had to spend a couple of days in bed.

But catching up with others is always wonderful and continually reminds me of how lucky I am. First of all to meet these great people but also to be able to see them again and view their lives and see what they have been up to since I saw them last. Its a great priviledge.

But it can't last forever and I'm aware that my bank account is in a critical condition. So I search for volunteer farm work on the Help Exchange website- you get food and accommodation in return for working. And finally I talk to Donna, who agrees that I can come to her for a few days. She lives in Kevisville which is near Innisfail, which happens to be where Carly is driving through at the weekend. So its obviously meant to be!

At Innisfail I have to say goodbye- sadly- to Carlee. Who knows when I'll see her again? And I'm met by Donna. She doesnt look anything like I expected- she's younger than she sounded on the phone, very pleasant with long country style hair. And the first thing that she and her sister Liz do is whisk me off to a local country music festival.

Now lets make one thing clear. When I was growing up I enjoyed all kinds of music and warmly welcomed all styles into my life and my MP3 player. Except country music. I have no explanation except that I was often tortured for hours by my best friend listening to CMT for days on end. Billy Ray Cyrus- need I say more?

So I was little apprehensive. I've become a little more accommodating since then to the extent of appreciating Alan Jackson and Johnny Cash (love 'em!) But still....
I loved it! The vibe was fun and relaxed, the players played outside till it got too cold and then they moved inside. And I was introduced to the joys of two steppin' which I have to say I mastered quickly- just one or two toes trod on...
It was a late night and we eventually got home at 3am. To my horror I recalled that farms never sleep and we would still have to be on the job early the next day. And so to bed....
Working on the farm was one of the best times I've ever had. I arrived in the middle of haying season so it was certainly busy. We cut and raked and baled for days. But the weather was fantastic and it was great to be outside so much. And it was fun! I learned how to operate the raker and the baler. I learned how to operate the tractor and the 3 ton lorry. And it was enjoyable when we had put out some sweat to see Gus making his way across the field with a string of cold tinnies under his arm. Ahhhhhh, Kokanee.....
Donna also ran a greenhouse business and was wrapping that up for the winter. There were cows and horses and some gardening to do. Donna and Gus were fun, Gus' dad David, lived on the same plot and their two daughters Amanda and Tina lived right there. So it was a warm and comfortable homey place. And the house was a log house that they had built themselves, and it was beautiful.

I happily stayed there for 2 weeks and then it was once again time to move on. Donna took me to Calgary and there I met up with Steph (South Africa and NYC!) She is in residence at the University of Calgary so I spent week sleeping there, eating my head off at Steph's expense and chilling out. We hung out and went out when Steph wasn't in class and had a chance to catch up and bare our souls. Which is what friends do :-)
I felt sad leaving Steph behind at the end of the week. She has been having a hard time of it and I wished that I could stay and be supportive. But it was time to go to Winnipeg and catch the train to Churchill, my next volunteer experience.......

Painful recollections from the past

It's late. And I'm tired. I want nothing more than to go to bed. But I've been reading through my older blog posts and something is bugging me and won't let me sleep.

As I read I became aware that I've missed out so much from my journey that has brought me this far. Of course that's normal. It's totally impossible to remember everything. But some things are more important than others and should be remembered. If only as a mark of respect to those that we have lost...

I'm recalling my time in Kenya and there are three important events that I have not recorded. That's because they were awful and painful and I've avoided them. But that's unfair. Let me share with you what I mean...

The first is my recollection of going to visit Auguste, who was a teacher at the local primary school. He was a handsome, friendly and educated man. However, despite the fact that he was educated he was one of the many who refused to believe that AIDS exists. This was particularly unfortunate as he was one of the millions who was infected with the dreaded disease. He had been prescribed ARV's but would not take them. He was convinced that he was under a spell, that someone was practising witch craft on him.
The group got word that Auguste was not doing well, and that he may need some support, so we set off to walk the 3 miles to his house. We got there and found him in the roadside by his street- he had been walking to try and get water and collapsed. He was in a dreadful state and had obviously been vomiting and was soiled with diarhorrea.We knelt down beside him and tried to talk with him but he was barely conscious. Alice stopped a passer by and told them to run and get the doctor, who was miles away. While we waited, Auguste started to vomit again, this time bringing up blood. His temperature rose to umbelievable heights, and after some convulsions, he died painfully by the roadside.

The second event was the second time that I was mugged. The first was a simple matter of 2 men running up behind me and snatching the gold chain that I wore off my neck. I was upset because the 2 crosses that I had on the chain had sentimental value for me, but nothing worse.
The second time was much worse. I was walking home in full daylight- about 4pm. 2 men came up behind me, attracted by the MP3 player that I was foolishly carrying in my pocket. They jumped on me from behind and dragged me to the ground, and another 2 men came out from where they had been hiding in the bushes. The 4 of them proceeded to search me and became very angry when they found no money. They became very bold, even going to the extremes of putting their hands down my T shirt, at which point I screamed my lungs out. They became pretty angry because I had no money and proceeded to beat me. I don't wish to dwell on the details but suffice it to say that I could not sit down properly for a week and I walked like an old woman for a lot longer.

The third event is the one that has most resonance for me and the one that I have carried with me for almost 2 years. One of the women in the group, Janet, had 8 children and had been left to support them by her philandering husband, who was responsible for giving her HIV. Her youngest son, James, had been born uninfected but her husband had forced her to breast feed the child, and she passed the infection on to James. He was 9 months old and a fine, happy baby. She often brought him to the group's hut so that he could be looked after while she worked as a seamstress. I often cared for him and became very fond of him. James had been sick for some time by the time Janet had enough money to take him to the doctor. He was diagnosed with TB and pnemonia, but she had not enough money to get the drugs for him. I offered her the money and she refused with great dignity, saying that it was up to her to provide for her child. She worked very hard for weeks and almost had enough money to take him back to the doctor. She was at the hut one day working and James was lying on my lap. He was feverish and had clearly taken a turn for the worse. His breathing was poor and laboured. Through the day he deteriorated, and, as I tried to raise him to ease his breathing, he died. He simply stopped breathing and did not respond to anything that we did for him. One of the other members ran for the doctor, who refused to come. He had living people to attend to and was too busy to attend to a baby for whom nothing could be done. So it was that the child who had had no life was left to slip away. The traditional African method of mourning is to scream and shout but Janet did neither of these things. She came and sat on the floor beside me. She gathered her dead child in her arms. And she laid her head in my lap and wept for her baby.

All of these events shape and are indicative of the time that I had in Kenya. It frustrated me greatly that people could literally die in the street and the government did not care for or assist their own people I wanted to help more, but found myself thwarted again and again by red tape and bureacracy. And all the time people died, including small babies. Who never had a chance. And men have to attack others, simply to get money to feed themselves and their families.

So despite the fact that I find these events painful, I record them. I do not blame the men who attacked me. I understand that things more powerful than them drove them. Starvation will do terrible things to people. And I wanted to put Auguste and James down on paper. So that I will not forget them. And to honour their memory.

I hope that I have succeeded.

We're the Kids in America!! (in the words of Kim Wilde...)

Well let me just say that there won't be any photos attached to this blog entry or the next few that follow it. The reason? Well of course I'm behind with it!! And I've deleted the photos off the camera! Shocking I know! I'm usually so diligent in keeping this thing up to date...ahem...

Anyway!! I left NYC. I left on the bus. I left with a smile on my face at the thought of seeing a new place. And I left with a small pain in my heart because I was leaving a city and friends that I love and have come to treasure.

But onwards! Join me on the bus to Philadelphia! Join me as I travel for a mere 4 hours down the East coast of Sister America. Join me as I alight from the bus and get called a cracker and told to fuck off by one of the lovely residents of Philly...hold on...

So after that wonderful welcome I hitched up my back pack and set off for the hostel. According to the map it was a few short minutes walk away from the bus station. Note: NEVER BELIEVE THE MAP!! After 20 minutes walking with all my stuff in 95 degree heat, this truth penetrated my ever so thick skull and I hopped on the bus. This saved me from arriving at the hostel looking like a greasy spot on the pavement. Instead I arrvived looking like I had just stepped oot the shower..

Ach well. I loved Philly. It's just steeped in history. Independence Hall was the big moment for me. They have live reenactments and movies of the War of Independence. Allow me to be stupid just for a moment and tell you: I never realised that this war was to get away from British rule!! I was shocked to discover that the enemy they kept talking about was me!! (Well ok not me personally but you know what I mean..) After this breathtaking revelation I toured the hall where the Declaration of Independence was signed- not on the 4th of July as they would have you believe, actually on the 4th of August!- and then took the bus to Betsy Ross' house. This lady was the person who sewed the very first Stars and Stripes and did so at great risk. Had she been caught she would have been viewed as a traitor and almost certainly killed...

Philly is also where the gawjus Cynthia (whom I met in Tanzania) lives and we did get the chance to catch up. We had a lovely hike for a few hours by the river where George Washington crossed beng chased by the British. We went for lunch and for ice cream. And we talked. And talked. And talked! Well, it has been months since we saw each other last! Cynthia has been one busy lady and has set up her own NGO to assist mothers and children in Tanzania. She refused to take credit for it but I know that it is her hard work and perseverance not to mention her money, that has gotten this project off the ground.

And so away from Philly and on to Boston on the train. I didn't get the chance to stay long in Boston. I had high expectations of this city. And I have to confess I was a teensy bit disappointed...maybe I just didnt stay for long enough but I never got the Boston thing. I was staying in a wonderful YMCA where I was able to run every day in the gyn and swim in their great pool. But the highlight for me was getting to the "Cheers" bar and having a few pints of Sam Adams Red. I drank it and recalled the many Friday nights that my brother and sister and I fought over the best space to see the tiny TV in the kitchen so that we could watch Cheers....ahhhh nostalgia. And meeting 2 lovely older ladies in the bar who were just desperate to chat and very nice it was too. I must not forget the Freedom Trail which was long and hot but definitely worth it. I would recommend the audio tour with it- its subtly more interesting.

And so to my favourite place in the US- Phoenix!! Only my favourite place cos the lovely Chelse and Ivan are there and I was able to stay with them. We cooked and ate out and drank and played Wii and talked and hung out. I had a great time with them as I always do and I was priviledged to be involved in the plans for their wedding next year. Chelsea and I hiked in the White Tank Mountains and experienced the dry desert heat- followed by beer and lying by the pool at their apartment.

But all too soon the time had come to leave. I hopped back on the bus and headed for Vegas, baby! Chelsea and Ivan got engaged here so I was looking forward to seeing the hotel in which this momentous occasion took place! And see it I did. The best thing about Vegas was the hotels. I have to say that so much effort and time and money is put into these places and they are beautiful. You never have to leave your hotel if you dont want to. You have casinos and restaurants and shops and bars right inside the hotel. I'm not a gambler so I didn't spend much time in the casinos and I was doing in on the cheap (staying in a hostel!) but I was still impressed and a little overwhelmed and amused by all the lavishness surrounding me.

Back on the bus! And the train! For some reason Amtrak does not run through Vegas so you have to do bus-train-bus- to the streets of San Francisco. This was not my favourite city in the States- NYC will forever hold that title! But it was fun! The bar just down the street from my hostel was Maxi's and had some of the most entertaining characters that I've ever met! And that was just the wait staff! :-)

So I went to Alcatraz and I cycled the Golden Gate Bridge, braving the cold and the fog. And I visited the art museums and hung out at film locations and visited lovely Sausilito. And I enjoyed, enjoyed, enjoyed.

Getting out of San Fran was a little trickier since I had booked with Delta (there was my mistake right there!) and of course the flight was cancelled. But they did have to put me up in the swanky Hilton Hotel in Oakland and feed me so that was fine with me. But the next day when they got me as far as Salt Lake City and then tried it again..oh no. This was my last legal day in the US. I was determined to get the hell out!!

And out I got. It took flirting and sexual favours but hey. I didn't have any money.

And so to Canada.....