Almost ran into a Boa.... the constrictor type.....

A nice lazy day, cloud covered, slight sprinkles, warm enough to sit on the dock in my swim suit wet from a dip in the lake, but cool enough to lay in the hammock in yoga pants and a long sleeved shirt.

Reading in a hammock is a pass time that I can not believe I haven't picked up sooner!  Why can't every book be as griping as the the Hunger Games, not thinking for a moment I would even enjoy it a little, but WOW did I surprise myself.  Savoring it like the perfect bit of dessert, I can't put it down, but I fear to pick it back up because the end gets closer and closer, and then what will I read?  Being on the island of Ometepe on Laguna Nicaragua is more than relaxing, the two volcanos constantly have clouds coming off of them, the sunsets are gorgeous, it's island life, without the saltyness the ocean brings.

Setting out around 1:30, the clouds begin to part and the wind is constant, but if I stay close to the shore it isn't as strong against me.  Going past locals washing their clothes, and their bodies in the lake.  Weaving in and out of trees whos roots show above the water level, palms, mango trees, and birds.  I get to the mouth of the ... river and head in, lined with green floating plants, white birds walk on top and dance around trying to catch insects.  Black birds with yellow beaks wonder and fly, a blue hearing, another type of white bird, the a flock of... GREEN! WOW, it's a flock of parats flying over head... cool! (I grin).  I'm alone on this kayaking journey, stopping when I want, which is often, to taken a photo of a branch, a tree, a bird, without having to say 'I'm' stopping'.  This alone traveling has it's pros and cons.

I find my way back into the river and am going under a tree, when BAM, right in front of me is a snack!  I think I talked to myself saying, OK, OK, OK, then of course, I got my camera out and took a photo.  What is it, is it poisonous?!  Is it a Boa?  I have no idea what kind of snacks live here.  

I feel satisfied with my time in the river and head back to start my trip back to the hostel.  The sun is dipping lower and the color is so pretty on the trees and people out by the waters edge.  People in hand dug out boats fishing, or families finishing up laundry while someone throughs the fishing net out.

More parates fly over and flocks of other birds I don't recognize, a Mango tree with little bity mangos makes me wish it was the right season, and reminds me of Chad.  I am out on the kayak while the sun is going down, just me, in my swim suite, while all the colors of the sky change.  It's getting dark now as I pull up to the shore where lightening bugs are there to greet me.

I show my photo of the snake to one of the locals, and it's confirmed, a boa!

Ahhh, Mountain biking!

So... today was about day 8, on a mountain bike for me..... in my life!!!  So far I have biked outside of Durango Colorado, Moab Utah, Bend Oregon, and now, Nicaragua.  It's a bit how I started my climbing, The first place I ever went rock climbing was Yosemite's Toulome valley.  Go big or go home seems to be an understatement with some of the activities I have tried and the locations I get to be in!

Since I haven't really been on a bike except for some commuting to some of my clinical sights in Portland, Oregon (yes, another biking capital). I really haven't been on the bike much since I worked in Europe guiding for Trek Travel taking tourists to cycle and watch the Tour De France (yes, I know, another one for the books) two years ago.

I left Oregon where the temperatures were in the 30's-40's F, a typical grey winter  in January.  It's the 'cold' season in Nicaragua, still in the 80's F during the day, and well, it's night and I'm in a shirt and short skirt and comfortable, so whatever that equals in F.

A breeze sure was nice, but man alive was I glad that I remembered NOT to put sunscreen on my forehead just in case I sweat, which I did... a LOT.  Did I also mention I fell off my bike about 4 times.  Not at any speeds, but the kind of fall that you know it's coming and you can't get out of your pedals, the one that is in slow motion and you have time to look and say "oh those bushes don't look THAT bad, don't see any cactus"  or, "OH NO! I'm going into that pile of garbage, EWWWWW"  and you can laugh it off because it's such a silly thing to actually be on the ground on an UPHILL!  I didn't know that happened, but apparently, well, for me, it is not that uncommon when I'm on a mountain bike.

It was nice to get out of Managua and up on a hill, I instantly felt like I was in the jungle, or on an island.  Dirt paths, kids out, colorful houses, banana trees, and the shade from the Eculptus sure was awesome.  I was glad to be riding with Wilson, my friend Andrea's husband.  He was patient, which ever newbee wants (and needs).  

We climbed 1400 meters in about an hour, talk about a sweaty mess!  It was all worth it, stopping by the fruit stand on the way back to the house so I could endulge in Pineapple and other yummies after a dirt and filth removing shower.  An amazing BBQ dinner with good friends was definitely an added bonus!!

here is the link to the ride we did... 

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/140337793#.Twsimnb2-KA.facebook

I have an idea!!!

Lets have the locals take pictures... I have 20 dispoable film cameras donated by Shutterbug, an awesome family run photo shop in Oregon.  Osprey thinks it's a great idea and is helping support this endeavor.

There seems to be a line between exploiting and story telling, how do you give incentive without just giving away.  How do you empower with being condescending.  There are a lot of quesitons and concerns I have with this idea.  

So here I am in Nicaragua, trying to figure tap into a community.

Katie from Manna, a non-profit here in Nicaragua is here and willing to help connect me with people in the community.  I'm going to go for it, head out with the volunteers and meet the communities and then see if people want to tell their photo story.... why not?!

Like a Lemming...

I always think of Lemmings when I travel. Following the person in front of you amlessly, not sure where I am going, or if it is the right way, then BOOM, I'm there, well, somewhere.

Airports are a launching ground to so many stories. Watching all the people funnel through security, looking around... some prepare before they get to the table, well as much as you can, then it's the hurry up and wait.... it feels like being at the starting block waiting for the gun to go off. Then it's your turn, I want my shoes to come off last because but I want them to go on first, so the tub dance of getting your tubs lined up so I can get things on in order. But the guy behind you put his tub on before you even got your bag on. So the friendly smile and the patience you channel to find your zen state starts to feel challenging when a TSA employee barks orders at you when you are already doing your very best. What will this system become, will it change? Will they make a conveyor belt with built in tubs, oh that sounds heavenly...
Lets talk about people... You can sometimes guess the destination of a flight based on the dress of the people at the gate. It sounds a bit 'judgy' but it's pretty true. Natural looking, worn clothes, heavy clothes, nothing name brand, unless it's carharts.... Alaska!
Down or Rain Jacket, running shoes, chacos, natural colored pants, maybe a long skirt, Pack west. The Miami airport brought a different dressing beast to the table I am not familiar with. High heels, and I'm not talking about a little lift, I'm talking the 8 inch (not sure if that is accurate because I don't wear heals) but holy cow, these girls just look uncomfortable every step, I kind of want to walk beside them or next to them and keep my hands up to help protect them if they fall, or offer them a bandaid, or foot soak cause they look in pain, which makes them walk weird, which makes them look silly, which really just makes the whole concept of wearing heels a waste, well heels that tall anyway.
There was this one girl who had on a BRIGHT orange sweater and blue shoes with pink laces. Yes, her bag she was carrying were the exact same colors... coincidence? I think not!
A bright blue sweater, blue capri sweats, a the exact same color of Toms shoes.
These are all just observations, I mean, I had a 6 hour layover for crying out loud!

As I slept on the one lonely bench in the long walkway between terminals, I thought, 'home is where I lay my head'... so I tried to get as comfortable as I could and cuddled up with my bag and slept for a couple hours, when else to do you selep on a bench in a public place, seeems like it.

Flying over Cuba doesn't suck!

Don’t forget the “other” 99 percent

Every day we hear about the Occupy protests, and the 99 percent. People march in the streets, holding signs about health care and jobs and lost homes. I don’t want to minimize the hardship that people in this country experience, but after participating in health care in Chad, I realized that in some people’s eyes, many of us more closely resemble the one percent.

I volunteered in an African hospital for a month, and when I returned, friends asked, “How was your trip?” When I tried to answer, I was always flooded with emotion. The thing I learned is this: Not many people live the way we do. That’s why it’s so hard for us to understand how others live.

Having been to a number of low resource countries, I have seen poverty, but Chad is one of the poorest of the poor. I’m not referring to poverty in small pockets in the city, or in rural communities. It’s infectious, and immense.

I lived with a family in a small village, and they were considered rich because they had a door and a metal roof over their hut. The toilet was a hole in the ground, and taking a “shower” meant fetching a bucket of water from the well and bathing while squatting on bricks.

From day one I was on the front lines of the “emergency department,” in a hospital that contained only one sink. Even though I’m only a student nurse, I was given serious responsibilities because the staffing was so inadequate. I served as scrub nurse for the head surgeon, who had been the janitor for 26 years before 'working his way up'.  I helped with a foot amputation, mastectomy, cesarean section and other surgeries. I even delivered some babies!

I fell asleep nightly to the sound of drums and people talking and chanting to rhythms and language I had never heard before. The Sub-Saharan desert is a vast place that made me feel so small. Death surrounds the people of Chad and it is apparent in the lack of water and food, and the prevalence of disease. Malaria takes the lives of so many family members and friends, and surviving is on everyone’s mind. I met a boy who was 15 and whose name meant “next to die.” His three older brothers had all died by the age of two.

Gaining global awareness is a journey that never stops. My month in Chad was filled with deep sadness and joy, along with new understanding gained by asking people about themselves, and listening. I’ve spent a lot of time in developing nations, and I was surprised that I still have room to gain new perspectives about the developing world. But when I was able to have face-to-face encounters with people who told me about their families, lives and dreams, I was struck by a growing sense that we are truly citizens of the world. When my friends hear about my trip and say, “Wow, I could never do that,” I think, “How can we not?”


Jessica Milnes is finishing her Nursing degree in Portland, Oregon. She has led adventure travel expeditions and served as a volunteer in North and South America, Africa and Europe. She can be reached by
email: info@jessicamilnes.com
phtography website: www.jessicamilnes.com
blog: www.jessicamilnes.blogspot.com

Reflections of Chad

I have been to 19 countries, unless you count the ones I've been to each time, then 24.  Some for several months, some for a day, (ok, just Myan Mar and Ethiopia for a day).  Some of these places like Bolivia, Peru, Cambodia are so poverty stricken, and because the most time I have spent out of the US has been in Bolivia and Peru, I thought I'd be prepared for Chad. 
    I was told by several Doctors that is was the poorest place they had ever seen, they too had been to 3rd world, or developing nations, even in Africa, but NOTHING compared to Chad.
    I'm asked, "How was your trip?"  I am flooded with emotion, and depending on who's asking steers my response.  I'll say "great, how are/was...." and redirect the conversation back to them, not really convinced they want to hear about my trip.  Other's get the raw truth, and some a sweet combo... it's kinda like a dance, and I am not the leader in these conversations, unless the questioner wants me to flood them with information.
    Chad?  Well, it's the poorest place Iive ever seen.  Not just poverty in small amounts, pockets in the city, or in rural communities.  It's infectious and everywhere.  I don't think I saw a representation that resembled anything less then extreme poverty.  It wasn't like some villages I've been in where there are 5-15 families that live there and after a week you kinda know everyone.  There were thousands of people even in the smaller town 6 hours south of the capital.
    I can't help but compare what I saw (or didn't see) to other places.  Bolivia and Peru is so beautiful.  I sat in this women's small hut high in the mountains, she had invited us in to chew coca leaves, as I entered I knocked my head on a carcus and she giggled a toothless smile.  He clothes were hand made from the yarn she had spun from the wool she had cut from the llamas she had raised.  There were resources, water, beauty.   We looked out the space where we would think a door should be and had an amazing view of a magestic mountain and a blue lake and the bottom, it was so picturesc and magnifiscent.  She told us she was Pacha Mama (mother earth) and that she owned the mountain and lake. 
    I had these flash backs as I looked around and saw nothing but flat nonundulating desert as far as my eyes could see.  The whole bus ride from N'djamena to Bere (6 hours) was like this.  I hardly saw any trees, and no animals, because they had all been hunted.  There were a few camels, some donkeys for transportation.  Once in Bere I only saw a few dogs the Arabs would sometimes have hourses, some chickens, pigeons, pigs, and a donkey.  Dare I say it, this place was ugly!  I think of myself as a person that usually finds beauty in things, especially landscape, I know this because I get made fun of this quality periodically, but I just find nature to be so pretty.  But this, the Sahara desert, wow, it's a whole other beast. 
    Now lets talk food.  One of the great things people talk about in the US is trying cuisines from other countries.  Let's just say the likelihood of finding a Chadian restaurant anytime soon is a long shot.  There was one dish that was OK if you like meat, but that seemed to only be in larger towns at a 'restaurant'. 
    I lived with a family and they are considered 'rich' not to mention they eat much better if they have volunteers staying with them and what I was fed was plain white rice for breakfast.  Sometimes it had a little sprinkle of some sort of tomoto paste, or left over splash of the sauce from the night before.  I usually felt full because of the rice, but the lack of nutrients quickly caught up with me.  I can see why there is such a problem with malnurshiment.  I was so sad.

27.01.2011, flight home

Do you speak English?  "Yes, of course, everyone does".  I'm in the Ethiopia airport now, waiting for my flight to the US.  This airport is HUGE compared to Chad's largest.  There are so many more white people and people speaking English feels to refreshing.
I get so conflicted with what is morally right to do. I hate getting taken advantage of and the guy at the Chad airport was definetly on the track.  He wanted $10 from each of us (there were three)  to get our passports stamped for us.  NO WAY!  I can do it myself.  HE followed me for about 30 minutes sigying and saying I needed to pay.  I was so frustrated.
Saying goodbye to my new Chadian Muslim, Italian, and Saudi Arabia friends. 

It was dry and dusty.  We flew over sand for EVER.